


The Champion of Doubt

by G E Monica (J1NXY0)



Series: Dragon and Phoenix Chronicles [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Blood and Gore, F/M, Gen, Mind Manipulation, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-22 21:30:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 30,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23000713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/J1NXY0/pseuds/G%20E%20Monica
Summary: (BEFORE YOU START - This is the sequel to 'The Champion of Misfortune' both parts are posted under the same Pseudo. This is the second book, Part 1 of 'The Champion of Doubt' and will contain major spoilers for the first book.)With a loss of where to go or what to do next after the traumas he's faced in Ayrev, Vay'len sets sail to find Rozaline's infamous family, with the weight of bearing bad news heavy on his shoulders.Feeling just as lost, Roza returns home to the sandy country of Barass. Forced to face her own inner demons, before her new challenge of spending the rest of her existence as a vampire can even begin. The fear of losing the ones she loves makes it easier to distance herself from them, yet Roza doubts that she can fight her battles on her own.
Series: Dragon and Phoenix Chronicles [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1629754





	The Champion of Doubt

**Author's Note:**

> The Old Gods:  
>  Viscar – Maker of Yaima and Father of Men  
>  Lenos – Mother of Plants and Animals  
>  Mear – Goddess of Beauty, Art and Love  
>  Alois – God of Knowledge and Cunning   
>  Gardoz – God of War and Death
> 
> The Elven Gods:   
>  Daeron Fy’reon – Creator and Preserver of Elves  
>  Aithera Viona – Mother of Elves and Nature
> 
> The Llichivar Goddesses:   
>  Maiya – Mother White Dragon, Power Absolute, Water and Wind.   
>  Muraz – Mother Iridescent Phoenix, Balance Ever-last, Fire and Earth.

Chapter One   
Loss and Gain

After living for over a century, Vay’len Nailir had found ways to tolerate many things. Unexpected weather, establishments that only sold meat based dishes, humans with terrible fashion-sense and dog-eared books were only a few. But he knew for a fact, that he would never get used to sailing.   
There is a reason why elves don’t sail, he remembered his mentor telling him once, when he had proposed the idea of leaving the seclusion of Syl’radin city to travel the world. Vay’len had always yearned to learn more about the history of Yaima, instead of just reading about it in ancient tomes.  
That went well, didn’t it?  
Vay’len vomited into the bucket between his knees. He had lost count of how many times the rocking of the infernal ship had caused him to lose his food, but the seasickness was continual. The more he thought about it, the more foolish he deemed himself to be. All that he had earned from leaving his home was a broken heart. He had been orphaned in one night, and he had let his dearest friend die in the space of only a few months.  
But he knew that he owed Rozaline Kiezar’s family the news first hand, and a personal apology. Vomiting and feeling as dizzy as a drunkard the entire way to Barass would be worth it, just to give the Kiezar family a small amount of closure.   
It hurt. More than he could have ever possibly imagined. The gashes on Vay’len’s body had healed well during the never ending weeks of sailing, but nothing could ease his mind. Day by day, he was constantly reminded of his parents and Roza. He couldn’t always stop the tears from falling.  
When the time finally came to leave the transport ship, Vay was glad to be back on dry land, but he was also terrified. Has anyone here ever seen an elf before? He wasn’t sure if he could venture into the unknown. Reading about Barass and the glimmering city of Vyn’ra was one thing, but to actually explore it…   
How did Rozaline handle Ayrev without fear… granted she had arrived a week late… He could so easily forgive her for her tardiness now, as well as her vices and bad habits. She had been a true friend.   
Barass only had one port, which had doubled in size in the last decade. In the hustle and busyness of passengers and cargo passing through the dry harbour town, no one stopped once to acknowledge the towering, seasick High-elf. He produced a used piece of bandage from his satchel bag, one that hadn’t been completely stained by his own blood. It was the only item he owned that had passed through Roza’s fingers, the only link that could lead him to find more of her belongings in her families’ home.   
Vay’len whispered the incantation into his palm, and even in a country as dry and hot as Barass, the wizard felt a small breeze beckoning him in the right direction to follow.   
A brisk walk through the harbour town and across a well-used road across the desert had Vay’len arriving at the capital city by noon. What a sight it was. Gone were the redbrick and granite buildings of Ayrev, replaced by smooth sandstone structures with dome shaped roofs. Every home had glassless windows to let in the air, and brightly dyed canopies shaded almost every street. Vyn’ra definitely wasn’t dull to look at.  
“This is an improvement,” Vay’len uttered to himself.   
He could picture Roza growing up here, amongst the audacious buildings and multicoloured roads. His magical trail led him through the baking city, past wells and beautiful water fountains and up a set of sandstone steps that led to a cluster of tall homes. One of the houses was painted navy blue, the colour of the Imperial flag, this has to be it, his intuition sparked.   
Vay hesitated before knocking on the bright blue door. He was the bearer of bad news, awful news, the sort of information that could destroy a family. How do I tell them?   
He took a deep breath and delicately tapped the phoenix shaped metal knocker. The door flew open in a matter of seconds, and Vay’len thought that he was seeing Roza’s ghost in the doorway.   
“R-Rozaline?” he puzzled.   
“This happens a lot,” she replied with a smirk, putting a hand on her hip. The mannerisms were all there, but the platinum blond haired woman lacked the swords on her belt. “I’m Lillian. I suppose my sister forgot to mention that we’re identical?”   
“Uh… right, nice to meet you, I’m–”  
“What she do?” Lily immediately jumped to the worst conclusions. She raised one of her hands to munch on a piece of bread.   
“May I speak with your father?”  
“That bad, huh?” she sniggered. “Sure, come on in. We’re in the middle of dinner, but we can fix you up a plate.”   
Vay’len followed the woman inside, where the colour blue continued to dominate. He steadied his nerves and attempted to refrain from shaking, as he prepared himself to meet the legendary Sir Theo Kiezar.   
The further in he ventured the more garish and colourful the furniture and décor became. Vay expected no less from a family so bold.   
“No offence, but you don’t appear to be very human,” Roza’s identical sister said, as she swaggered towards the round dining table.   
“I’m an Eladrin,” he replied nervously, “More commonly known as a High-elf.”   
“That’s neat. What’s your name?” she asked jovially.   
Aithera give me strength, Vay’len prayed inwardly, now that he was standing in the vibrant kitchen and outnumbered by Kiezars.   
“Move over, fat head,” Lillian elbowed the black haired young man to budge his chair over.  
“Bite me,” he retorted, but slid his chair over all the same, to now share elbow space with his father.   
“Hello there,” greeted their mother, just as golden skinned and brightly blond as her daughter, “An unexpected guest?”   
“One of Roza’s,” Lillian divulged as she began to pile bread and goats cheese on an extra plate for him. “Help yourself to the grapes.”   
Vay’len took up the spare chair – the one in which Roza would have sat, if she were still alive – and couldn’t help but stare at the blind folded man across from him.   
“Elf, aye?” Theo uttered, pausing his meal to sense the newcomer.   
“I am Vay’len Nailir,” he finally introduced.   
“Ah, you sent Roza a letter to travel to Ayrev?” he recalled.   
The wizard tried not to wince, tried not to break down in tears.   
“I’m Theo, this is my lovely wife Georgia,” he managed to point perfectly at each member of his family, as if he had some sort of second sight. “Zachary, and of course Lily. Logan’s out back training. Gods know, that boy needs it…”  
“Nailir? Was your mother the one that kept Victor and Kayzu alive?” Georgia wondered, pouring a cup of water out for their guest.   
“Yes,” he almost choked on his words. “Regretfully, both my mother and father were murdered by-by Moriquen.”   
“Well, shit,” Theo cursed.   
“I’m very sorry to hear that,” Georgia said, clearly stunned.  
Vay’len continued before he lost all courage, “Also, Roza… Rozaline was executed in Ayrev for – for treason. I’m so sorry,” he said breathlessly.   
All four Kiezars frowned and puzzled with confusion.   
“She was here this mornin’,” Theo said with bemusement.   
“Isn’t she resting in her room?” Georgia added.   
“Last time I checked, yeah,” Lily shrugged.   
“H-how?” Vay’len asked, getting up from his seat without realising it. His body seemed to gravitate towards the exit, as if he had to see Roza with his own eyes to believe it. He hadn’t touched his food at all, but it was impossible for him to have an appetite, especially now.  
“She returned home a day before you got here,” Theo answered, smiling wryly. “I wouldn’t think that she would fake her own death, unless she really didn’t like you.”  
“Theo,” Georgia scolded under her breath.  
“I’m kiddin’!” he chortled.   
“Would you mind if I…?” the elf checked, before freely roaming their home.   
“Upstairs, second door on the left,” Theo guided.   
“I thought he was going to be sick,” Georgia said quietly, after their guest had rushed back towards the hallway.   
“I bet he’s been worried sick,” Zachary added, “Should we be worried? Roza might wish she was dead, now that he knows the truth.”   
Theo tapped a finger to his lip and reminded gently, “Mind your words. Elves have incredibly good hearing, aye.” 

***

Vay’len practically burst through the bedroom door, his cheeks hot with embarrassment, his breathing heavy. His vision near failing him as he struggled to concentrate on the possibility that Jamie Claylorne’s premonition had not been accurate.   
“Wha’? What are you doin’ here?” Roza puzzled, wrapped up in a silk blanket with one arm covering her face. “Shut the door, you’re lettin’ the light in.”   
The door clicked shut behind Vay and the room was plunged into almost complete darkness. His elven eyes could see her perfectly enough, it really was her…  
Her night hunter eyes were just as faultless in the dark, “What the heck?” she sat up in her big bed and sighed. “Don’t say that you didn’t get my damn letter, Vay?”  
“What… Letter?” he uttered, his lips barely moving, whilst his whole body quaked all over.  
“Celeste was meant to let everyone know that I’d gone back home,” she explained.  
Vay’len fell to his knees beside her bed, covering his face, overwhelmed with emotions, he began to weep.   
“What are you cryin’ for? I’m fine.” Roza reassured, slightly abashed by all of the emotions that were pouring out of the elf.   
“Jamie saw you… he saw you shot to pieces.”   
“That did happen, aye,” she admitted, shaken up a little by his arrival. “I survived though. But I wasn’t ready to tell you…”   
“Tell me what?” he wiped his eyes – those brilliant sapphire eyes – and looked up at her. His knees still pressed against her tiled floor, yearning for answers and meaning. It was only just then that he realised that Roza had no clothes on, she turned towards him holding her blanket up to cover her chest. Her shoulders were bare, but she didn’t care.  
He didn’t care either. “Are you still not ready?” Vay’len asked quietly.   
Roza upturned her right wrist and showed her friend the fang marks. “When Seth and I came to rescue you, I didn’t get very far… the dark-elf that killed your parents stopped me. I tried to avenge them, I wish that I had. I fell off that cliff edge, and I somehow survived long enough to get back to Michael… you see where I’m goin’ with this, right?”   
“Nilde, you were afraid to tell me that?” he said gently, the elvish he spoke so mystical.  
“Nilday?”  
“Nilde means ‘friend’,” Vay murmured, taking her wrist to examine her scar. Her skin was no longer as warm as he remembered. “When you stayed up all night so that I could rest in the temple of Mear? You weren’t tired – you have no need to sleep at all now – you were just… changed.”   
“Ironic, aye? A worshipper of Gardoz making herself undead,” she said shamefully, “I had to, though. I had to go back for you.”  
“I – I’m,” he couldn’t find the right words, not without sounding ungrateful for her sacrifice.  
“I haven’t told my family yet,” she admitted. “They deserve to know.”   
He still held onto her wrist, shaking his head with disbelief. “I’ll find a way to reverse it,” he vowed.  
“Is that even possible?”  
“I have no idea, but I have a lot of time to search.”  
“I didn’t want you to blame yourself for it,” Roza said tearfully, “You already had so much going on…”  
“I thought you were dead,” Vay clarified, “I didn’t realise how important you were, until you were gone…”   
Roza turned her hand up so that her palm was now pressed against his, fingertip to fingertip. There was so much energy flowing through him, and into her. So much concern and desperation in his bright eyes, piercing into her.  
“I’ve been sober for almost a month,” she said, still savouring the warmth of his hand and blocking out all of her cravings for blood.   
“Well done,” he uttered, smiling faintly.   
“Not particularly by choice, alcohol doesn’t really affect me anymore unless I drink a lot. And I mean, a lot.”  
“It used to numb your thoughts?”   
Roza nodded slightly, “Now I just feel… I feel everything. I just want to cry all of the time. It’s really inconvenient, y’know?”   
“I know,” he said, “And it’s okay. I’m here for you, nilde.” 

Chapter Two  
Filling in the Blanks

“You never told me you had siblings.”   
Vay’len still couldn’t believe that Roza was still alive, or at least walking, talking and existing. He didn’t want to think about losing her again. It was a new feeling, the need to protect and watch over a close ally. Of course, he had never wanted anything bad to happen to Melody, but she never exactly threw herself into harms way.   
It’s not as though Roza needs protecting, he reminded himself. Perched on the edge of her bed, facing the door whilst she got dressed, Vay brought up what he regretted most.  
“You never stuck around long enough for us to share such information,” she said what he was thinking with a wry little laugh.   
“I know,” he said to the door.   
Roza finished buckling up her sword belt and edged around her bed. “We were both always workin’,” she shrugged. “Well, time to go break papa’s heart.”   
“Do you want me to join you?”   
“Aye,” she nodded before steeling her nerves and wrenching her door open.  
At last the sun had set. A strange sort of thirst nagged at the back of Roza’s throat, but she blocked it out. If I can block out pain, I can block out blood cravings.   
Vay followed behind her as she sauntered down the stairs, through the darkened kitchen and found her family outside on the large training balcony. They found Roza’s younger brothers duelling on the patio with very real looking swords.   
“Feeling better, sweety?” Roza’s mother turned to her, ignoring the sword practice for a moment.   
“Slightly,” she replied, making a point to raise her chin a little bit and force a smile.  
“I found some of those coconut bars that you love so much,” Georgia said kindly, reaching out to wipe a smudge of dirt off her daughter’s cheek. “You look pale, Roza. Bad weather in Ayrev?”   
“Ma…” Roza kept her jaw tightly clenched. I think I’m going to be sick…  
“Too slow! You’re dead. You’ve just died,” Theo heckled from his corner of the balcony, hearing the crunch and clash of Logan losing his balance and being knocked over.  
Vay winced slightly, even from afar, the fall looked painful. The youngest of the Kiezars, Logan couldn’t be any older than twelve, but he had to remind himself that humans grew up a lot faster than elves.  
“Thanks, Ma, but I won’t be eating the coconut bars anymore,” Roza continued as if Logan wasn’t struggling to continue his practice. She put on an air of false confidence and clapped her hands together, “Pa.”  
“Over my dead body,” Theo barked over his shoulder.   
“Aye?” Roza puzzled.   
“If you’re about t’tell me the elf came all this way over here to marry you, he will have to duel me first,” her father announced loudly.   
“For fuck sake…” she murmured, massaging her temples. She tried not to glance back at Vay, but she could tell that he was absolutely mortified.   
“You didn’t make Joe fight you,” Lily took up an adamant defence.   
“Joe wasn’t an elf,” Theo grinned wickedly.   
There it was, Vay realised, the infamous Kiezar grin, the mannerisms that were passed down from generation to generation.  
“Why would you bring that up?” Georgia whirled on her other daughter.   
“What? Are we just going to pretend that Joseph never existed?” Lily argued with passion.   
“You sound like you’re carrying galdarkas, Roza,” Theo said, highly alert. He moved away from his corner to inspect his suspicion.   
“I am, Papa,” she said, trying to stay calm, even though she wanted to scream at her sister for being so tactless. “They are Buckeyes. Someone stole them from the palace.”  
“You should return them to Claynore. Alania might give you a nice reward,” he said, his own ivory cased galdarkas shifting on his belt as he joined her space. “I knew they should have been kept at the temple. Make sure Sam oversees their recovery – Roza?”  
“Aye?”   
“What’s wrong?” he turned his narrow, turquoise blindfolded head, focusing in on the sound and the aura that irradiated from his daughter. “You’re not… breathing right.”   
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you,” she smiled mirthlessly, “Do you remember Corbin Balvine?”  
“Amrit?”   
“Whatever name he is using these days,” Roza went on.  
“You met him?” Theo asked. He was clearly on edge. He knew deathly assassins well – Corbin, Aryn and even Sheri Curlain could move without being seen if she so wished. There was always something eerie, and not right about those that existed on the fine-line between life and death, Alois’ greatest trick. Theo’s wayward daughter was giving off all of the same signs.   
“No, but Ayrev was riddled with his kind,” she hinted.   
Theo shifted his stance, almost defeated by her words. “Is that how Vay’len lost his parents?” he asked, “I’m not sure elves truly die, aye?”   
“Honestly, it hasn’t been something that has ever crossed my mind,” he said shyly.   
“There were Moriquen too, and apparently a criminal gang-cult led by Gustav Hollington that also wanted me dead,” Roza informed. She too shifted her stance to mirror her father.   
“But you are dead,” he said, lifting a hand to feel for a pulse on her neck. “You left for Ayrev and came back a bloodsucker.”   
“That’s not funny, Theo,” Georgia uttered, bringing her own hand up to her throat.   
“I’m not tryin’ to be funny,” he said.   
Roza glanced down at her feet, completely stripped of her confidence. “Are you mad?”   
Her brothers stopped duelling each other. Her sister rushed over to wrap her arm around Roza’s shoulder.   
“Why would I be mad?” Theo replied at last.   
“Because we worship Gardoz? The whole – the whole point – my whole life – I was meant to die in glorious battle, gods damn it,” she blurted.   
“Rozaline, we are Kiezars. We’ve been bending the rules for centuries now,” he grinned broadly. “Look at me, I spared your mother on the battle field – she did kill my horse, aye – we married each other, had you and Lily. I lost my eyesight – ”  
“You’re never going to get over that horse, are you?” Georgia teased.  
“Of course not!” Theo growled with laughter. “My point is, it takes a lot of courage to become a Gardozian Knight, and a lot of sacrifices. We suffer, so that others can thrive. You’ll just be suffering for eternity, I’m afraid.”   
“Thanks, Pa…” she said sarcastically, but she smiled with relief all the same.   
Lily checked out the scar on her sister’s wrist and smirked, “I guess we’re not so identical anymore.”  
“I mean, it could be arranged,” Roza bantered.   
“How are you okay with this?” Georgia screamed at her husband. Tears began to stream down her face, and she lunged forwards as if she was going to take a swing at him.  
Theo caught his distraught wife and held her close. “It’s not something we can change, my love,” he said gently, “We can only accept it.”  
“What if it could be changed?” Vay’len piped up nervously from behind the infamous family.   
“You don’t think Corbin Balvine would have found a way already? He’s been searching for centuries,” Georgia argued, consumed by her misery.   
“I’m an Eladrin, I have thousands of years…” he said eloquently. “And I’ve read a lot of books in the last century. Perhaps it is time for me to meet with Corbin once again.”   
“You already know him?” Roza wondered. “You never mentioned that.”  
“I was a child when I met him. He is… was friends with my mother,” Vay responded quietly.   
“Would he still be in Claynore?”   
“Possibly,” he said with a sigh. “Oh great, more sailing…”  
In all of the chaos, Logan and Zachary had forgotten about their training. They set their weapons aside to check on their mother. Vay noted how much Zachary took after his father; he moved the same way as him, Roza and Lily, light on their feet but with a swagger. The eldest boy had the raven black hair and pale skin of an imperial and his eyes were as green as Roza’s. Must be from their father, Vay thought, as Georgia Kiezar had almond brown eyes. The youngest, Logan was the only one with a unique look about him. His golden mop of hair was longer, his skin peach coloured, his eyes not quite brown or green, but yellow. Vay bet that in the sunlight, Logan’s eyes would probably appear golden.  
“We should all go to,” Theo suggested with a big grin.   
Georgia pulled away from his embrace and rushed back into the house.   
“Well done. You made mother cry,” Zach accused, staring at Roza with wide, wild eyes.   
“I didn’t do it on purpose,” she snapped back at him.   
“So did you see him when you died? Did you meet Gardoz?” he pried, still stalking around his big sister as if she were a target.   
“Erm… no,” Roza thought for a moment. “I did see… Aryn briefly.”   
Her father chuckled, “That doesn’t surprise me.”   
“You should go say sorry,” Zach ordered.   
He’d grown quite a lot since she had been away, in height and in bulk. Before he had been at her chin-level, not Zach was at her eyelevel, staring her down.   
“It wasn’t her fault,” Lily defended, shoving him back with a sharp push.   
Instead of falling backwards onto the patio, Zach grappled her wrist and almost flipped his sister over his shoulder. Unfortunately for him, Lily grounded her footing in time, and twisted her arm around to put him in a headlock.   
“Hey! Save it for practice,” their father barked before swaggering back towards the house, to hopefully console his wife.  
Lily let her brother go, grinning smugly. “You little shrimp,” she stabbed.  
Zach attempted to fix his wild, dark hair. “Prick,” he uttered under his breath. He didn’t go with his family into the house, but instead crossed the patio and vaulted over the tall garden fence, disappearing into Vyn’ra city.  
“I’m glad that’s over and done with,” Roza announced, turning back to her elven friend.   
“Is it ironic that you were more worried about upsetting your father?” Vay let the thought float there for a moment.   
“Aye,” she nodded slowly, “I’ve never seen Ma cry before.”  
“Perhaps a heart to heart with her?” he suggested gently.   
“You’ll be all right out here?” she checked, “I would have thought one Kiezar was already enough for anyone to deal with.”   
He smiled kindly at her joke before glancing up at the large stars above. “I’ll be fine.”   
“All right,” Roza patted his shoulder before heading back inside.   
Vay’len looked back down to find a very inquisitive boy staring up at him. Logan had a split lip and a bruise forming on his forehead, but he didn’t seem too bothered by it. Poor lad is probably used to having his siblings beating on him.   
“Do you have pointy ears?” Logan asked with a gleeful grin.  
Vay crouched down so that they were eye to eye and tucked his long, silky hair behind both of his ears.   
“Whoa,” his whole face lit up. “Are you Roza’s boyfriend?” he wondered innocently.  
Vay chortled, but he was sure that his cheeks were flushing red. “No, we’re partners.”  
“You married her in secret?!!”   
“Not that sort of partnership. More like, um, business partners.”  
“Do you own a business, Mr Eladrin?”   
“No… but if I did, I would sell felt shoes,” he said whimsically. “You may call me Vay’len, by the way.”   
“What do you do, then?” Logan continued to pry.   
“I’m a wizard,” he replied.   
“I thought they were all hunted to extinction, y’know, after Krotan and Zula enslaved a whole country with their magic?” he recalled.   
“You know your stuff, Logan Kiezar,” Vay said, holding his palm up. He drew inspiration from the nature around him, flowing sand into the centre of his palm, where it heated and crystallised into a glass ivy leaf. “There aren’t many of us that still remain.”   
“Amazing, how did you do that?” Logan asked with awe.   
Vay handed him the glass leaf, and the boy was surprised by how cool to the touch it was. “There are many layers to our world. The naked eye only sees what is in front of us, but with a little bit of adjustment, thought and imagination, reality can be moulded as if it were clay,” he explained.   
Logan studied the miniature glass sculpture with fascination before offering it back to its maker.   
“You keep it, as a gift,” Vay said, smiling at the hopeful boy.   
“Seriously?” he beamed, and then winked mischievously. “Thank you so much, Roza’s partner.”

***

Roza found her mother upstairs, drying her eyes in her bedroom.   
“Did you change the wallpaper in here?” she wondered as she stepped inside the lamp lit room. She felt as though she had been away from home for a decade, not half a year.   
“I’m sorry, my sweetheart,” her mother apologised. “I didn’t mean to get so emotional. I just couldn’t stop picturing you being held down and… and – ”  
“Ma, why are you apologising to me? I’m the one that was reckless,” Roza pointed out, joining her mother on her thick mattress. “I deserve to be yelled at, for once, heh.”  
“That’s what I get for marrying such a reckless man,” she stifled a laugh, only slightly.   
“Anyway, I let the vampire bite me. He’s a friend and a good man, I asked him to do it, because I wasn’t ready yet. Despite all I’ve learnt about the gods and our family traditions… I wasn’t ready to die,” Roza admitted.   
Her mother hugged her tight and kissed her cheek. “I’m glad you made the choice yourself,” she uttered.   
“Ma… other things happened, that I – I had no control over,” she said uneasily. Things that shouldn’t have ever happened to me, she realised. Violations that still haunted her every, immortal moment, “I let Michael get turned… I was too late to save Vay’len’s parents. I endangered everyone around me. I – I lost to a Moriquen and broke my spine.”   
Roza began to scratch at her own arms feverishly, plagued by all of her pain and regrets. “I was tortured by royal guards for a stupid misunderstanding… I can still smell my own burning flesh, their voices, their gods damn eyes. I should have fought harder,” she began to break down, clawing her arms until she drew blood. “I should have been stronger. I should have ripped out all of their throats.”  
Georgia grabbed her shoulders firmly, to stop her daughter from causing any more harm to herself. She’d been this way after her fiancé had been murdered, all regret and raw emotion and self-loathing. Just a shell of the once happy and curious girl that Georgia used to know.   
“It will get easier, my darling,” she promised.   
“The worst part of all is that I made Vay think that I was dead,” Roza said crucially.   
“Luckily he came straight here to find us, instead of spending the rest of his days thinking that he had lost you,” Georgia reassured, still holding pressure down on Roza’s shoulders. “There aren’t many men as honourable or brave as that around.”  
“I suppose not,” Roza murmured, calming down a bit.  
“Do you love him?”   
Caught off-guard by the absurdity of the question, Roza began to chuckle. “Ma? We’ve barely tolerated each other’s company longer than a day.”  
“Practically a married couple already,”  
“He’s an elf, for pities’ sake, and I’m a bloodsucker. That’s like an angel and a demon falling in love,” Roza argued, folding her arms and pouting.   
“And I’m from Menos, your father from Claynore. Mortal enemies, yet here you are,” Georgia pointed out.  
“I’m – I’m,” she stammered, trying to come up with a reasonable excuse, “I’m barely over Joseph.”   
“I know, sweety,” her mother cooed, kissing her cheek once again. “There is no mistaking the way that Vay’len looks at you, though.” 

Chapter Three   
Bleeding Out

He had been lurking in the cargo hold for weeks now, trying to get as far away as possible from… from whatever I am running away from.   
In the beginning, he had kept his composure for a while, unfazed by his ailment. It had been manageable. But that had been before he had acquired the taste for the real thing, the purest thirst, the most forbidden craving.  
Michael Zainadir clutched his knees tightly against his chest, riding out the eternal hunger. He would give his arms and his legs to be with Rozaline again, but not after what I did to her. What I did was unforgivable…  
With no one else to speak to, his thoughts plagued him. He couldn’t stop reliving the event. Roza limp in his arms, her body broken.  
I should have refused.  
He had feasted on her blood, not certain that he would even stop himself from drinking too much. The wizard Vay’len had given him a book to read, one about vampires that had claimed; if a victim is drained of all plasma and vitality, they will become a mindless-husk, and an easy target for necromancers to control.  
Michael had lost his humanity that day.  
What is one more taste?   
The cargo hold could no longer contain him. He wanted to feel again, he wanted to hunt. Michael got up from his corner and began to pace up and down the hold. The thirst was always worse at night. He could smell the crew above, could sense their pulses and their hearts beating inside their ribcages. The ultimate temptation.   
“Maybe I can pick off one of the sick ones,” he rationalised under his breath, “No one would ever suspect…”  
He continued to walk up and down, his footsteps quickening. I didn’t bring any weapons. He decided that he could steal one from somewhere, before leaving the refuge of the hold.   
It was incredibly easy to detect the sick prey from the healthy, as he stalked the shadowy areas of the transport ship. Within a matter of minutes, Michael found the sickbay and a pasty, sweaty sailor lying on a thin mattress.   
A single lamp swung rhythmically in the corner of the small room, giving off an eerie haze. His victim groaned, delirious to his surroundings.   
Michael stooped down with lightning fast reflexes and took the sailors’ arm. He tested his own will, to see if he could hold his urges back. But it was like offering a starving man a free buffet. He had already opened the door to his eternal cravings. Michael bit down on the man’s flesh, finally letting the warmth of another’s blood fill his mouth. It’s wrong, but I can’t stop myself…  
The sailor barely struggled or made a noise, until his pulse stopped all together.   
“Who are you?” a woman asked, standing in the open doorway. “Are you the ships’ doctor?”   
Alarmed, Michael pulled away, wiping his mouth on his sleeve and watching as the last few drops of the dead sailor’s blood dribbled onto the mattress.  
“Yes,” he quickly lied.   
“Is my father okay?” she wondered.  
“Um,” Michael murmured, feeling energised by his meal. Yet he had been caught red-handed. He debated killing her as well, just to be on the safe side, but she was still so young and so full of life. “Maybe you should come back later.”   
“Has something happened?” she panicked, taking a step into the dimly lit sickbay.   
Michael held his hand up, “Stay there.”   
“Gods,” the young woman gasped, “Is – is he dead?”   
She rushed over, collapsing beside her fallen father.  
Michael quickly covered up the bite marks and the blood stain with his hand. “I’m sorry,” he uttered. He meant it, he truly felt guilty. He thought that he was putting the sick sailor out of his misery, not knowing that he had a daughter.   
“Papa,” she wailed, draping her face over his chest, her dark hair fanning out across his neck and arms. “Papa…”  
“I’m sorry,” Michael repeated. “I didn’t want you to see…”   
“Where were you?” she accused, glancing up from her fathers’ chest, “Why didn’t you come earlier and help him?”  
“I – I myself was very sick. I’m sorry.”   
“Stop saying you’re sorry,” she screamed at him. “You should have helped him!”   
“Then, let me help you,” he offered, watching her weep. He wasn’t sure how to feel anymore. He had ruined the woman’s life, so that he could survive. She was human, but he was… something else. If Roza could see me now…  
“I need something to drink. Something strong, something to numb this pain,” she said miserably. “None of that watered down ale.”  
“Would the captain have some proper liquor in his cabin?”  
“Probably. I dare not ask him, I’ve heard he’s quite the creep,” the young woman sniffled.   
“Leave that to me. Do you have any friends or family onboard?”  
“No, it was only me and my Papa.”  
“Do you know how to get down to the cargo hold?” Michael asked.  
“I think so, why?” the woman puzzled through her tears.   
“You can’t stay in here. Let me handle everything,” he offered gently, “What’s your name?”  
“Nikita,” she said through her sobs.   
“I’m,” he hesitated for a moment, might as well leave that old life behind me. I won’t be getting any nosebleeds anymore. “I’m Michael.”

***

The captains’ cabin wasn’t locked, and the apparently creepy captain slept like a log on his lavish bed. Michael snuck through the lightless room, glancing briefly towards the snoring captain. He had a woman in his bed, and she appeared to be half his age.   
Yeah, pretty creepy, Michael judged as he helped himself to the captain’s liquor cabinet. He slipped back out of the cabin with a bottle in each hand. No one on the main deck of the ship spotted or heard him as he travelled back down to the cargo hold.   
He had already cleaned Nikita’s father and wrapped his body in a blanket, ready for a funeral. Is this to be my life now? The life of a murderer.  
It only felt right that he should try to console the young woman. He found her huddled at the end of the hold, her curly dark hair covering her face.  
Michael sat down beside her, leaning his back up against the wooden wall. He set the two bottles of brandy in front of her feet.   
“That was quick,” Nikita murmured, “I didn’t think you’d actually get me some.”  
“It was no trouble,” he said steadily, resting his arms on his bent knees. He found it so much easier to concentrate now that his hunger had been sated. He felt confident and unstoppable, but he couldn’t exactly let it show. Maybe her father was going to die in a few more days anyway, Michael reassured his own guilty thoughts.   
“You’re a very odd doctor,” she pointed out, glancing at him with her bloodshot, sore eyes. “Very young, too.”   
He uncorked one of the bottles and handed it to her. Judging by her pale complexion, dark hair and pale green eyes, she was an imperial from Claynore. “Are you sailing back home?” Michael wondered.   
“That was the plan,” Nikita replied, taking a sniff from the bottle and recoiling. She firmly closed her eyes and took a big swig of brandy, almost spitting it back out again. “How do people drink this stuff?” she spluttered.  
“The bottle looks expensive,” he shrugged, wearing an amused smile, “I thought it would taste delicious.”   
“Gods, I’ve just realised something,” she said with a sad sigh, “I’ve inherited the family business now.”  
“What’s the business?” Michael asked conversationally, trying to take her mind away from her grief.   
“Fabrics. We buy from Ayrev and sell in Claynore. Pa… Papa always brought me along to help him choose the fabrics,” she replied, “We have so much stock onboard.”   
“I can help you move the stock, if you like?” he offered, trying to be helpful.   
“Why?” Nikita took another swig of brandy and grimaced. “What do you have to gain?”   
Michael shrugged again, “I’m a doctor. I’m supposed to help people, and I let you down. Please, let me make it up to you?”  
“We have to make it to Claynore first,” she mumbled. She drank for a while more, almost gagging before putting the bottle into Michael’s hand. “I don’t want to drink alone.”   
He took a drink straight from the bottle as well, and began to cough from the burn of the strong liquor. “You’re right. It’s disgusting.”   
Nikita almost laughed at his reaction. If she hadn’t been so heartbroken, she would have smiled and laughed at their agreement on how horrible the brandy was.  
“Are you from Ayrev? You have the accent,” she wondered.  
“What accent?”   
“Somehow Ayrevians sound more refined and sophisticated, a more old fashioned version of Stintish,” she pointed out.   
Michael thought for a moment, realising that she was right. Roza had a different sort of way with words, a brash and crass accent, but he had liked her for that.   
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he said, sounding more charming than he actually felt. He felt truly awful, his guilt threatening to consume him.  
Never again, Michael promised himself, I’ll never kill again. 

Chapter Four   
Warm Welcome

Vay’len awoke from his early morning reverie to the clearest, brightest sky that he had ever seen. Rozaline remained hidden in the darkness of her room, and he couldn’t blame her.  
Georgia Kiezar cooked her family and their guest eggs with rye bread, accompanied by a side of pink grapefruit. Vay appreciated her kindness and hospitality more than he could ever express.   
“Have some more, Vay’len,” urged the lady of the house.  
“I couldn’t possibly, I’ve always had a small stomach,” he smiled with gratitude.   
“We must get through two dozen eggs a day in this house,” she said with a chuckle, plating up another fried egg for her husband.   
“Aye, Vay’len?” Theo grinned, sprinkling sea salt over his breakfast. “Do ya know how to wield a blade?”   
“It is a skill that every Eladrin must learn,” he confirmed.   
“Will ya show us after breakfast?”  
“Honestly, he’s not even been here twenty-four hours,” Georgia reprimanded.   
“Precisely, he hasn’t had the proper Kiezar welcome,” Theo grinned more gleefully.  
“I would gladly oblige you, Sir Kiezar,” Vay said with a small smile.   
“There’s a good sport,” he praised, wolfing down his food. “I’ll go easy on ya.”   
Georgia scoffed before tucking into her grapefruit half. Her three children were already finished and helping clear the table, eager for the duel to begin.   
“Did you meet my brother in Ayrev?” Georgia asked their guest.   
“I’m afraid not, I never found the need to visit a blacksmith, nor a chance to introduce myself to him,” he said professionally.   
“That’s a shame. Do you know if he and Sathera had their baby?”   
“Just before I left the city, his forge was closed for the birthing of their child,” Vay informed.   
Georgia put her hand on Theo’s shoulder and cooed, “We must visit them before the end of the year.”  
“Certainly,” he agreed enthusiastically, “Once we’ve got Roza settled in Claynore, my love?”   
“Sounds like a plan. Do you think Sheri will be able to help?”  
“Help finding Corbin?” Theo wondered, pushing out his chair and taking his plate to the kitchen sink. He had a mental image of the room, he moved swiftly and without stumbling.  
Vay was growing increasingly more anxious to duel Roza’s father with every passing minute.   
“Or any vampires really,” Georgia said, sounding hopeful.   
“We’ll figure something out. I’m sure Aryn can find just about anyone,” he pointed out.  
“Who is Aryn? Roza mentioned that she saw him at the brink of death?” Vay asked curiously.   
“Aryn’nair Devarr? He is the brink of death,” Theo replied with a chuckle.  
“Have you heard the stories about Wraith, The Great Betrayer?” Georgia brought up.  
“Well, yes, um, my mother told me that one,” Vay recalled, “The llichivar that stole the dragon relic – The Moonstone – which Krotan and Zula used to sink the Carvar Isles into the ocean?”  
Georgia nodded slowly, “That’s the one.”  
“That really happened?”   
“Aye, and my imperial ancestors ended up migrating north, to what is now known as Claynore. Menos weren’t too happy about us being there though, hence the centuries of war between our two countries,” Theo added.   
“Just because of Aryn?” Logan asked, hearing the tale for the first time. “Just one llichivar?”  
“Well, and two power hungry wizards. I’m sure he is gonna love you, Vay,” Theo said with another chuckle. “You ready?”   
Vay’len left his seat, engrossed by the new knowledge.   
“Don’t worry about your plate,” Georgia said kindly.  
“Is that the same relic that Sheri Curlain needed my father’s help to unlock?” he checked, rounding the dining table.  
“Aye, the one from the legends. The very same relic that blinded me,” Theo informed, tapping his blindfold with his index finger.   
“I should really like to meet Sheri Curlain,” Vay decided excitedly.   
“Let’s see if you can survive me in the ring, first,” Theo beckoned to the backdoor, grinning broadly. 

***

Vay’len might as well have been blindfolded too, as the scorching hot sun rendered him almost sightless. In over a century, he had never known such dry heat before.   
Zach handed their guest an unsharpened sword and smirked ominously.   
“You don’t mind if I use my galdarkas, do ya?” Theo said with a grin.  
“Erm,” Vay hesitated, watching the way Roza’s father prowled, his hands ready to draw the blades on his hips at any second.   
“I’m just kiddin’,” he laughed, holding his hand out to catch the training sword that Zach was twirling at his side.  
Vay smiled nervously, adjusting to the weight of the practice sword in his hand.  
“Ready?” Theo checked. He listened out for movement from his opponent, but the elf was light on his feet and his breathing calm.  
“Ready,” Vay said, lifting up his blade across his body defensively, his every move was uniform and precise, just as his elders had taught him.  
Sir Kiezar continued to prowl, keeping his weapon low, down by his leg. He was so relaxed in his shoulders and his hips, Vay almost missed the unexpected strike.   
Theo swept his sword across his body and then lunged forwards at the elf, who only just managed to leap backwards in time and deflect the second attack.  
His blindfolded opponent listened to the clash of metal, and somehow predicted his next move. Vay lightly stepped sideways, his knees bent for balance and swiped three times. Theo narrowly dodged by leaning back, with his blade returning down beside his leg.  
“Got some fancy footwork,” grinned the Gardozian knight.   
“Stop playing with him,” Lily catcalled to her father from the sidelines.  
Vay stepped back cautiously. It was hard to fight someone without seeing their eyes. The wizard could read so much from looking into someone else’s eyes, but Theo’s were covered by a strip of turquoise fabric, and his manic grin revealed nothing of his next intentions. The intimidating knight strode forwards and Vay raised his sword to block.   
Theo dashed one way, and then the other, still holding the sword at his side ready to strike. He seemed so relaxed, yet deadly. Controlled, yet sporadic. His skill with a sword went hand in hand with deceiving his targets.   
No wonder Roza always hides behind the same grinning expression, it’s all an act to triumph in battles… Vay thought, losing his concentration for a second lost him the duel.   
Theo Kiezar swept his right arm out across his body, Vay braced for the sword to follow, angling his blade to block. All he deflected was thin air, as at some point Theo had changed his sword arm, sweeping up with his left hand to rest the tip of his sword against Vay’s chest.   
“You got distracted,” Theo said, almost sounding disappointed as he released his victim from sword point.   
Vay was too embarrassed to admit that he had been thinking about the knight’s daughter in the moment of his defeat. He bit his lip, “I’m still not accustomed to this heat.”   
“Let’s have a drink then,” Theo offered with a smile and a bow. “Thanks for that. I’ve never fought an Eladrin before.”   
Vay bowed back.  
“Wait, I want to fight him,” Zach piped up.   
“You heard him, he’s melting out here,” Theo chuckled, leaning his practice sword up against a plant pot.   
“I think I can manage,” Vay said eagerly, undoing a few of his shirt buttons.   
“Just one round,” Zach was just as eager, picking up his father’s discarded blunt sword.   
“I’m ready,” said the elf, raising his sword again. It had been several years since he had duelled in a practice ring. All of his focus and studying had gone towards his wizard training, but his muscles still remembered how to fight. To be in the moment, where each step counted and every strike made his blood pump – it was a welcoming distraction from his sorrows.   
Zach edged across the sandy patio, the sunlight irradiating off his pale skin. Vay was reminded of Roza, her brother was just as heavily built as her, with the same earthy green eyes as her.  
Zach looked up at his target with a big grin, “What do they feed you in the forest?”   
“All Eladrin are giants,” Theo reminded from the far corner of the garden, crossing his arms and visualising the way that his son was preparing for the fight.  
Vay could actually read his target this time. Zach was all playful glee and excitement, so ready to prove himself in front of his family.   
Warming up his wrist again, Vay carved his sword fluidly in front of him, cutting through the air.  
Just as his father had done, Zach kept his sword ‘undrawn’. He relaxed his shoulders, taking a deep breath and focusing on the fight. Recalling all of his Gardozian techniques, Zach scanned the elf for an opening.  
“Kick his ass, Vay,” Lily jeered mischievously.   
Zach dashed forwards, slicing his weapon low across Vay’s body. But the elf had jumped backwards with unseen speed. Still determined to make the strike, Zach lunged recklessly before his opponent could get a strike in.  
In that one second, Vay firmly held his ground, battered away Zach’s sword and reached out to grab the recoiling blade with his free hand. Before the Kiezar could react, Vay twisted his body and struck Zach’s sword arm three times until he let go, leaving the Eladrin with both practice swords in his hands.   
“What?” Zach barked, “What just happened?”   
From the shelter of the kitchen, Roza began to clap in the shade of the open door. “I enjoyed that,” she grinned from ear to ear.  
“How did you move so fast?” Zach asked with disbelief.   
“You made yourself easy and obvious to parry,” Theo surmised.   
“Nice one, Vay,” Lily cheered, relieving him of both practice blades. “Maybe I’ll get a turn once you’ve cooled down?”  
“Hey, go find your own elf,” Roza teased.  
Vay bowed to the family before joining his friend inside. “Your father asked me to duel him,” he explained.  
“I know, I watched from the window upstairs,” she said, retreating into the cool, blue tiled kitchen.   
He cringed slightly.   
Roza passed him a glass of water and a tea towel for his sweaty face, glancing at his partially unbuttoned shirt.   
“Thanks,” he panted, noticing that she was just as casually dressed as him.  
“Your wounds healed up, then?” she checked, recollecting how torn apart his shoulders had been before she had returned home.   
“Yes, thank you,” Vay smiled, dabbing the towel across his face and neck. She was studying him and his exposed collar, as if she was trying to figure something out.   
“When the sun goes down, would you like to go see the city?” she offered hesitantly. Vay had seen her vulnerable side only very briefly in the past, but never like this. Before, Roza’s shattered and broken mind had been forged together by her façade of audacity and debauchery. But now she was in pieces, lost and confused, with no direction on a path where almost all doors had been slammed in her face and locked.   
“Very much so,” Vay replied, just as hesitantly as he came to understand Roza’s troubles bit by bit.   
“You need a new set of colourful robes, aye?” she asked with a coy smile.   
“Yeah, I do,” he chortled.   
“I could do with something to keep the sun off my head,” Roza said.  
“Late evening shopping trip?” he smiled, finishing off his water, “I look forward to it.”

Chapter Five  
Wide Open

“Are there even any tailors open this late?” Vay wondered as he strolled alongside Roza through the sandy streets of Vyn’ra.   
“You’re kiddin’?” she grinned up at the starry sky, “This city comes alive at night.”  
He could see what she meant. They passed many establishments, emitting glittering lights and mystical music. Now and again, a patron or a passer-by would recognise Roza Kiezar and they would stop and have a brief catch up.  
“Who’s your tall, mysterious friend?” asked one of Roza’s acquaintances, a Barassian woman with deep purple painted lips and a white dress that only just covered the essential areas of her curvaceous body.   
“Oh, this is Vay,” Roza introduced, “This is Jas.”   
“Wait,” the Barassian gasped theatrically, “Is he an elf?”   
“Have you never met an elf before?” Roza was mildly surprised.   
“Not personally…” Jas cooed suggestively, offering Vay her dainty hand.   
Vay awkwardly shook the woman’s hand and formally bowed his head at the same time.  
“Feel free to visit any time, Vay,” she swooned.   
“Thank you,” he said timidly.   
Roza snorted before embracing her friend, “I’ll catch ya later, Jas.”   
Vay sheepishly followed, sliding his hands into his trouser pockets.  
“I find it hard to believe that you managed to woo a princess,” she continued to snigger.   
“Woo a princess?” he repeated with amusement. “Was that a brothel, Roza?”  
“Very observant of you,” she teased playfully.  
He rolled his eyes at her as they reached a decorative water feature in the middle of a mosaic tiled plaza.   
“Here is my favourite shop, they sell all the really outlandish outfits,” she said enthusiastically.   
“Perfect,” Vay’len smiled.   
Roza led the way inside the colourful and eccentric clothes shop, browsing and trying on outfits with Vay for what felt like hours. There weren’t many items that fit his long and lithe body but he did manage to find a grey linen coat that flowed down to his knees.   
“It looks good on you,” Roza encouraged.  
“Are you sure you’re not just saying that because you’re ready to go now?” he asked doubtfully.   
“Of course not. Take as long as you need,” she said, sitting in a leather arm chair that matched her new leather jacket, sipping on complimentary peppermint tea. She had already purchased a midnight blue, silk cloak and a pair of black leather gloves to shade her in the day time and was debating whether or not to buy a new pair of boots.   
“It’s a bit plain,” he muttered, checking his reflection in a long mirror.  
“Maybe they can repair your old robes,” she suggested, “But for now, I think you should get that coat. And that sleeveless one that you tried out first.”  
“I don’t think I have enough money for both.”  
“Ah, lemme handle that,” she said casually.   
“Why would you do that?” he puzzled.   
Roza hopped up from her seat and filed through a wrack of men’s clothes. “I’ll get you this blue shirt as well,” she decided, “To match your eyes.”  
“Roza, they’re all really expensive…”   
“It doesn’t matter,” she said cheerfully, “My family has connections, remember?”  
“Yes, but I’ll feel as if I owe you.”   
“How about I owe you for all the times I’ve been a jerk?” Roza grinned broadly, pushing the light blue shirt up against his chest to check how it looked on him.  
“Y-you,” he stuttered with disbelief, “You’re just going to bribe your way into my good books?”  
“Absolutely,” she chuckled impishly.   
“Fine, there is no use arguing with you,” Vay sighed, taking off the coat so that she could pay for it at the counter.   
“Give me your destroyed robes as well, I’ll see what they can do,” she gestured to him with her hand.   
“Would you like your purchases delivered to your house, Lady Kiezar?” offered the owner of the stylish establishment.   
“Aye, that would be grand,” she said charmingly, “Thank you, Kendrick. Have a lovely night.”   
Lady Kiezar, Vay smiled with amusement. It was easy to forget that Roza was from a noble bloodline, as she never acted snooty or ladylike at all.   
“Something funny?” she glanced back at him.   
“No-no,” he began to smirk. “What’s the plan now?”  
“I want to show you Keira’s gardens,” Roza said, heading for the exit. “She has a pool we could cool off in.”   
He nodded and let her continue to navigate the unfamiliar city.  
They only made it a few paces away from the water fountain when someone Roza knew put a pause on their journey again.  
“Morrivo Rozaline,” the older gentleman greeted in Barassian, pushing his round spectacles further up the bridge of his nose. “I haven’t seen you around in a while…”  
Vay’len noticed her tensing up, but not to fight, more as though she wanted to disappear.   
“Aye, I-I’ve been in Ayrev,” she replied uneasily.   
“I see,” he pursed his lips momentarily, “They dropped the case, you know…”   
“I thought… I thought that they had found a few suspects,” Roza muttered, staring down at her feet.   
“There wasn’t enough evidence,” informed the greying man. “Well… well, I’m sure you’re busy.”  
“You too, Zaro,” she said, still avoiding his eyes.   
“Evana,” he waved as he passed on by.   
Roza silently marched on forwards, taking the route to the centre of the city that she knew so well.   
“Roza, are you all right?” Vay checked, taking long strides to keep up with her frantic tempo.   
She shook her head and ascended a set of white marble steps, into a garden full of greenery and palm trees.   
He was so focused on keeping up with her that it took him a while to realise that they were passing the massive white pillars of a very important looking building.   
“Is this a palace?” Vay wondered. “When you said Keira’s gardens, you were referring to Keira Salazi? The sultana of Barass?”  
Roza didn’t answer, as her mind blanked out and her body roamed aimlessly in a straight line.   
“Roza,” he leapt forwards to hold onto her shoulders, “Would you slow down, please?”  
She whirled around on him, as poised as a dancer and seething. He imagined that the look she was giving him now was the last thing that most men ever saw, before she shoved twenty inches of steel through their gut.  
Realising his mistake, Vay took a step back. “Sorry, but you were going to walk straight into that pool of water.”   
“No I wasn’t,” she argued irrationally.   
“Was that,” he hesitated briefly, “was that your fiancés’ father?”  
“Dr O’pira,” she nodded, scratching her cheek to distract herself from tearing up.  
Vay’s solemn expression turned to the crystal clear pool. “I could do some investigating into it,” he offered, “if you like?”  
“There’s no point,” she said, sitting down on the terracotta tiles, letting her fingers glide through the refreshing water. “It won’t change anything. It won’t bring him back. Whoever shot him will or already has got what they deserve…”  
“I would think that you would like to deal the justice yourself?”  
“I did, once. It was all I ever dreamt and prayed for,” Roza said distantly, talking towards the pool.   
Vay’len sat down beside her, looking up at the big stars and resting his chin on his knuckles. How can something so far away, still appear so close?   
“I nearly lost my mind on the journey here,” he admitted slowly. “I was filled with wrath and hate and regret. I wanted only to hurt those that had destroyed my family and those that had ended your short, short life.”  
Roza leant further forwards to watch the dark ripples in the water, silently hoping that Vay would keep on talking, keep on distracting her from the horrifying thoughts.   
“I’ve never felt anything like it before,” he went on, chewing his lip and shaking his head. “If I had stayed in Ayrev… I think Jamie was right. I would have died there. The night my parents were – when they – I gave up after that night. I’ve always been good at handling my emotions, at least I thought so. But, I don’t like to think what all of that rage could have turned me into.”  
“A mad wizard,” she surmised, “Gods know, Yaima has seen enough of those.”  
He looked back down at her and quietly agreed. “There were so many things that I wish that I had said to you. That was why I needed to find your family.”  
“Well, I’m here now. What was it you wanted to say?”   
“That I – that I wish that I had seen you smile more, really, truly smile,” he uttered, struggling to string all of his words together. “That all of your imperfection are what make you so perfect.”  
Roza frowned slightly, “Were those supposed to be complimentary?”  
Vay’len let out a shuddering, withering sigh. “Oh, forget it. Forget I said anything,” he said, mortified by what he had let slip off his tongue.   
“I most certainly won’t,” she smirked. “Now I’m just going to feel self-conscience about smiling in front of you now.”  
“Please don’t. I didn’t mean it like that,” he fretted.   
Roza slapped her hand across the surface of the pool, aiming to splash Vay in the face. He flinched as the cool water hit him right on target.   
“Hey!” he spluttered before splashing her back.   
She crouched on her toes momentarily before tackling Vay into the pool, crashing into the clean water with him.   
She laughed at his bedraggled appearance. His usually well groomed, silky black hair was plastered all over his face, making his narrow ears stick out more than ever.  
“It just occurred to me, can elves actually swim?” she said.  
“Of course we can, we don’t turn into some sort of waterlogged sparrows.”   
“You look like one, though,” she teased.   
“Yes, because my clothes are now completely soaked,” he pointed out haughtily, but was unable to hide his amusement. Roza’s spontaneity made him smile. He wasn’t sure if they were allowed to be in the palace gardens at night or if a guard would soon kick them out, but Roza didn’t seem to care about rules. She was all heady chaos, wild and reckless, everything that he wasn’t.   
Vay quickly realised that the pool was shallow enough for him to stand up in, when Roza splashed water up into his face again.  
“Stop that,” he chuckled. “Are you sure we’re not breaking the law here?”   
“Nah,” Roza grinned, swimming around lightly, “Keira and my parents go way back. Sometimes I wonder if she is the only thing that is holding Menos and Claynore together.”  
“Really? You don’t think the peace will last?” Vay wondered, slicking back his wet hair so that he could actually see.  
“It never does,” she replied plainly, floating on her back, “Just look back at history. Your kind nearly completely wiped each other out. Humans practically wiped out llichivars and then just went to war with each other. The dark elves are the only thing that is uniting us together, for now.”  
“What if you’re wrong? What if we defeat the Moriquen and then there is another war again?” he speculated.   
“Then, I suppose there is no need for my kind anymore and Gardoz becomes an obsolete god. With no followers left, the gods’ power will diminish. Let’s just hope that nothing nasty tries to destroy Yaima again after that, now that there are no more warriors left,” she said thoughtfully.   
“Hmm,” Vay smiled with curiosity, her theories were food for the thought.  
“What is it?” Roza asked, picking up on his interest.   
“I was just thinking that you are possibly the last person I could have imagined to have a theoretical discussion with,” he admired.   
“There you again, with the back handed compliments,” she laughed heartily.   
Vay smiled sheepishly, and was glad to see that he could at least make her laugh with his terrible social skills.

Chapter Six   
Buried 

Just one more week, one more week, one more…   
Michael had shut himself away in the cargo hold again, shut away his cravings. The quicker they reached Claynore, the quicker he could find a ‘cure’, or at least some way to manage his monstrous thirst.   
Michael had never met anyone quite like Roza. Without rest or distraction on his journey, he thought about her all the time. She had sauntered into Raydon city and changed his life forever.   
I could have lived a very normal life, and died a very normal death…  
He couldn’t stop thinking about how sweet her blood had tasted. Nothing else could compare to it, and Michael was almost afraid that he would never experience anything that could even come close to the intoxication of drinking Roza’s blood.  
Stop it, he chided his thoughts, just one more week and –   
“Michael,” Nikita frantically called for him as she climbed down the ladder to the hold, “Michael?”   
He had lost count of the hours and the days since he had last laid eyes on the young merchant woman. “I’m here,” he replied wearily.   
“Will you come quick?” she beckoned, “A man has hammered a nail through his thumb.”  
“What did he do that for?” Michael joked dryly. He got up and strolled towards the ladder.   
“He didn’t do it on purpose! He was fixing the main deck and the plank of wood slipped. He’s gone as pale as a sheet. I’ve been running all over the ship trying to find you – are you coming, or not?” Nikita explained hurriedly.   
“Sure,” he waited for her to ascend the ladders first before following her up. “What’s the weather like?”   
“Wha-what?” she puzzled, “How long have you been in the cargo hold?”  
Michael shrugged, “I prefer being on my own.”   
“Drinking on your own?” she accused, as she quickly lead the way, “We will discuss this later, my uncle had the same problem.”  
“Did he now?” he feigned curiosity. “You were the one that wanted something strong to drink.”   
“That was just one night,” Nikita snapped, “And for very good reason.”  
“You make a good point,” he said.   
Michael followed the imperial woman up the wooden stairs and out onto the main deck, where luckily the sun was already setting. The injured sailor was sat with his back up against the mainmast, trembling as he drank from a cup.  
“Are you the doctor?” he asked uneasily.   
“Yes, and I’m here to help you,” Michael reassured, putting a hand on the trembling man’s shoulder. “Are you drinking brandy?”  
“Aye, the captain gave me some to calm me down.”  
“That was a bit silly, I don’t want you passing out on me,” he said gently. “Let me see your hand.”   
The balding sailor extended his arm for the doctor to take a look. Michael didn’t give his patient a chance to dwell on the pain, or any warning before he swiftly ripped the iron nail out with his inhumanly strong, bare hands.   
The sailor swore loudly, but Michael quickly put a firm grip around his bleeding thumb, keeping the pressure tight around the wound.   
“It’s gone,” Michael said, locking eyes with the man, “It’s gone.”   
He could feel the sailor’s pulse pumping in his hand, the warmth and wetness of the blood filling his palm, one more week – one more week – one more week, Michael internally chanted his mantra.   
“Here,” Nikita offered them a roll of linen bandage, clearly shocked by what she had seen the ship’s doctor do with nothing but his thumb and forefinger. It had taken a hammer to put the nail into that man, she speculated, but he pulled it out as if it was just a splinter.   
“Thanks,” Michael swallowed hard and looked up at her, focused on her kindness and bravery, instead of the blood that was pooling in his hand. He bandaged the sailor’s thumb up tightly until the bleeding was contained.   
“I’m going to go clean my hands up,” said the doctor, stepping back from his exhausted patient.   
“I’ll get you some water,” Nikita offered.  
“No,” he said abruptly, not meaning to sound cold, but all of his senses were battling not to lick the blood from his hands in front of half the crew, find somewhere private for that. “No, its okay,” he said after a moment of composure, and departed from the main deck.   
“Funny, I don’t remember hiring that guy,” the captain mused as he nonchalantly poured another cup of brandy for himself and his recovering sailor.   
“Don’t look at me,” said the first-mate with a small chuckle, “Perhaps he’s just one of the passengers?”  
Nikita chewed on her fingernails, still trying to rationalise what she had just witnessed. If no one hired the doctor, what had he been doing in the infirmary with my father?   
“Well done on locating him for us, though, Miss Dovan,” the captain praised, putting an unwelcome hand around Nikita’s waist. “I’m sorry to hear about your father.”   
She pulled away from the ship captain, with half the mind to slap him around the face. He was almost twice her size and his whole crew surrounded her, so she buried her fury deep.  
“Not to worry, little petal, I’ll take care of you for the rest of the ride,” he said with a crooked smile.   
“I don’t need taking care of,” she glowered.   
The sleazy captain grabbed Nikita’s arm and pulled her back to his side. “No arguments, this is my ship after all.”   
“No,” she shrieked, trying to pull away again, “You’re hurting me!”   
“A vocal one… this could be fun,” he said, before dragging the imperial woman towards his cabin.   
The captain’s first-mate laughed and rolled his eyes, the rest of the crew turned away and went back to work, not wanting to step on their bosses’ toes and have their wages docked.

***

Michael waited a few more hours before returning to the deck of the transport ship, eager to see the stars for a change. Maybe becoming a doctor isn’t a bad idea. I can do good whilst keeping my cravings at bay, he thought as he walked towards the starboard side and looked down at the dark ocean.  
He had thought that leaving Ayrev was the best thing to do, the most logical thing to do after turning the woman of his dreams into a creature of the night.   
I did a terrible thing…  
The night that he went back to Celeste Alberona’s establishment still haunted him. He couldn’t tell the noble lady what he had become, or what he had irreversibly done to Roza. But she must have read the terror in his words and on his face. Celeste had told him to keep the turquoise cloak, but he could not bear to wear it. The garment still resided folded up in the corner of the cargo hold, the only belonging that Michael had left his home with, besides the faded green shirt on his back and his rolled up trousers.   
His deep reminiscing was suddenly interrupted by a loud bang against wood and the sound of a woman wailing.   
Michael whipped his head to the side, staring at the captain’s cabin that he had previously snuck into. The woman’s bloodcurdling screams continued to pour through the cracks of the door. Hauntingly familiar sounding screams.   
He didn’t think, he only reacted, storming towards the cabin to rip the door off its hinges.   
“What the – ” the large captain inside was stunned by the feat of strength.   
Michael looked down at Nikita, sprawled on the wooden floor, completely naked, her pale skin illuminated by the moonlight that was now breaking in behind the night hunter.   
“We’re just havin’ a bit of fun,” the captain winked.   
Michael looked up from the distressed imperial woman and could feel his eyes twitching, his fingers flexing and his mouth filling with elongated fangs. He lost it. All physical and mental control, his weeks and weeks of composure of setting himself rules and drawing a line in the sand, just so that he wouldn’t succumb to his instincts. Everything that kept Michael Zainadir a good man toppled over that line and smashed into smithereens.  
He launched at the captain, faster than a bullet, the impact sent him careening for the back wall of his cabin. The captain tried to scrabble back on to his feet, blood spilling from the back of his split head, but Michael had already appeared on top of him, pinning him down so forcefully that both of his arms shattered.   
The ship captain cried out, but was quickly silenced by the fangs that were ripping into his neck.  
Nikita’s mouth fell open in a silent scream, as she watched the brutal murder. Fear kept her limbs locked and all she could do was whimper.   
But Michael returned to her, with her navy coloured dress in his hand. His eyes glowing red and blood soaking the lower half of his face, he managed to restrain enough of his humanity not to hurt the terrified woman.   
“W-what are you?” Nikita cowered, clutching her dress against her naked body.   
He stretched back up, powerful and wrathful, disgusted with the crew that had turned a blind eye whilst the young woman was being abused.   
“I’m sorry,” Michael uttered, before exiting the cabin and forcing the broken door back into the frame. “Don’t come out, until the sun rises.”   
Tears ran down Nikita’s face as she avoided looking at the gory body of the murdered captain. She hid in fear, covering her ears, but nothing could block out the shrieks and moans of the crew that Michael now hunted. 

Chapter Seven  
Memory 

Without liquor to numb her emotions and haze out her memories, Roza was close to losing her mind. She wasn’t even able to fall asleep anymore – always eternally awake – always aware of how horribly she had messed up her life.  
Being back in Barass only made it worse. Even in the darkness of her room, every detail, from the wooden floorboards, the bright orange walls, the bamboo blinds, the pale blue dressing table and especially her collection of ship figurines reminded her of Joseph O’pira. For every birthday since she had been ten, Joe had gifted her with a new, expertly crafted sailing ship figurine. One for every year of their friendship.   
Roza wept into the silk, ocean-green bed covers, remembering everything.   
Their first day of college, their classes had been separate. Roza had searched for him everywhere after the day was over, to find him surrounded by a bunch of bigger boys. Joe had always been gentle, calm, studious – a perfect target for bullies to push around. Roza had always been the complete opposite.   
“You know your dad’s a pervert, right? He looks up ladies skirts all day,” Roza remembered their antagonising words.   
“He’s a doctor, he delivers babies,” Joe had replied a matter-of-factly.   
“You’re a perv too,” one of them had accused, pushing Joe down.   
Roza didn’t know how to hold back. She had always and still did solve everything with violence. She remembered launching herself into the ring of five older boys, taking the punches so that Joe wouldn’t have to. For a fourteen year old girl, she was already big, muscular and strong. She had left the bullies with bruises and cuts that they would never admit that a girl had inflicted upon them. Consequently, they never picked on Joe again.  
Roza had always had a bad reputation for fighting. Everyone knew that she was a Kiezar. Everyone knew who her father was. Gardozian knights were above rules, laws and codes. They were your judge, jury and executioner. Most people feared Rozaline Kiezar before even ever meeting her, but not Joe. He had always been at her side, cleaning up her every wound, splinting every broken bone, soothing every single pain.   
She remembered how he had confessed his feelings for her, their first kiss, their first time making love. It had all happened so naturally and so easily. Roza hated how much she had taken their time together for granted.   
I didn’t protect you when it really counted…  
Roza cried and cried for hours on end, until she was numb. Even in her family home, she had never felt so alone.   
She could hear the clash of swords from her window, Vay no doubt giving her brother a rematch in the ring.   
I don’t understand why he would want to still be here, Roza wondered once her senses returned to her. I failed him, his family and Ayrev. Vay’len could literally be anywhere else but here.   
She didn’t know what to do with his words, didn’t know where to put them.  
Your imperfections are what make you perfect.  
I wish that I had truly seen you smile.  
Roza had tried for so long to be the perfect example of a Gardozian knight, that she had forgotten how to be happy or miserable, or just to be content in her own skin. Vay could be a distraction for a while, she could use him for fun – just like everyone else she had ever met after Joe – Hayley, Lorne, Jamie, Michael, Taylor, Seth and even Celeste. She realised that she had used them all as a means to her own end. I chew people up and just spit them back out. Vay deserves better than that…  
“I should tell him to leave,” she uttered quietly, words for only herself to hear. “He’d be better off far, far away from me before I can do any damage.” 

***

Roza wasn’t sure how to word what she needed to say. But she knew that it would be better to hurt her friend a little bit now, instead of breaking him apart later down the line.   
She emerged from her room once the sun had set, expecting to find her family feasting on their evening meal. Instead they had waited for her.  
“Good morning,” Georgia Kiezar greeted, combing her shoulder length, platinum blond hair in front of the hallway mirror. “We’re going out for dinner, are you coming?”  
“Is Vay going?”   
“Of course, we’re not going to leave him behind. We’re not complete savages,” her mother joked.   
Roza suppressed a groan. “I’ll just sit there watching you all eat, aye?”  
“I was thinking, we could go to that steak place, and you could have your meat blue? Or do you have to eat… drink humans?” Georgia asked awkwardly.  
“No, Ma, I don’t have to drink humans. I think I’d like to keep humans off the menu from now on, in fact,” Roza grinned wryly.   
“Okay. Well, go put something nice on, then,” she ordered playfully.   
“What’s wrong with what I’m wearin’?”   
“Nothing, dear, only I think you’re wearing one of Zachary’s shirts,” Georgia chuckled, glancing at her daughter’s reflection in the mirror.   
“That explains the sweat stains,” Roza sniggered, and wandered back up the stairs to get changed.   
She almost wandered right into their house guest. “Damn it, Vay, why do you have to sneak around everywhere?” Roza accused. “I thought you were in the garden.”   
“I turned into a cloud of smoke and summoned my ethereal form up here,” he said whimsically.   
“Ah, of course, I forgot elves could do that,” she played along.   
“Yes,” he raised a long dark eyebrow. “In reality, Logan was showing me his shell collection.”  
“He does have a pretty impressive collection,” Roza smirked.  
“Indeed,” Vay continued to haughtily mess around, “I think out of all the Kiezars, he would have to be my favourite.”   
“I don’t blame you.” She looked up at him with her lips still pulled to one side.  
He smiled back at her, almost sympathetically. His ocean eyes so full of hopefulness and innocence.  
How am I supposed to tell him to leave?  
“Everything all right, Roza?” he asked, as he watched her open and close her mouth a few times.   
“I’m just going to change my shirt, and I’ll be ready to go,” she informed, her body rigid and tense.   
Vay waited inquisitively at the top of the stairs until she remerged. “When was the last time you ate?” he asked gently.   
“I… I haven’t,” Roza realised.   
He waited for her to take the stairs first before following her down. “Are you having cravings?”  
“Most of the time. It’s nothing new, before I was addicted to drinking. Being drunk was how I coped,” she replied uneasily.   
“How are you coping now?” Vay wondered.  
I’m not, she wanted to say, but she had already reached the front door where her family were waiting for them.   
The sun was down, the stars were out and Vyn’ra city was slightly less stifling. Roza felt more awake in the evening air. As Georgia led the way, Roza finally noticed that Vay was wearing the blue shirt that she had picked out for him.   
“Nice shirt,” she smirked playfully.   
“Oh, this old thing?” he bantered.   
They lagged behind her family, continuing to tease each other until they reached the steakhouse. Vay’len had a way of making her forget that she had been crying in her room all day. He eased the tension in her muscles and her mind.   
They entered the restaurant and her father announced that he was going to get a large pitcher of beer for the table. The establishment was busy, but they managed to find somewhere to sit all seven of them.  
The smell of meat was so intense for Roza, that her mouth began to water straight away. “I can’t picture you being drunk,” she said to her friend, sitting down opposite him.  
“No one wants to see that,” Vay uttered modestly.   
“Loosen up,” Lily grinned, and she was the splitting mirror-image of Roza. “You deserve it, after beating Zach again.”   
“Don’t remind me,” their brother groaned, slumping in his seat to hide behind the menu in his hands.  
“He’s an elf,” Theo grinned broadly, rejoining them, “He’s too pure to drink.”   
“Oh, we do. We’re just very fussy,” Vay said light-heartedly.   
“Fussy,” Georgia teased with a chuckle, “You wouldn’t believe it now, but Roza used to be a very fussy eater.”  
“Ma,” she cringed.   
“There used to be a time when she would only eat rice, coconuts and hummus.”   
“Do you mind, Ma?”  
“What? It’s my job to embarrass you, darling,” Georgia said playfully.   
“Shall we go up and order?” Roza quickly changed the subject. “Wait, I’ve just realised what we’ve done…”   
“Hmm?” her mother tilted her head in question.   
“Vay’len doesn’t eat meat,” she clarified.   
“Honestly, it’s fine. Look, they still do salads,” the Eladrin said, referring to his menu. “I don’t ever remember telling you about my dietary requirements, though?”   
“You don’t wear anything from an animal,” Roza pointed out, “You said it yourself, how hard it is to find shoes that aren’t made of leather.”  
“Did I?”  
“Aye, at the spring ball,” she nodded.   
“You remembered that?” Vay asked, almost fascinated.  
Roza nodded again, blinking rapidly, “Are you sure you want to stay here?”  
“You’re the one that hasn’t eaten in almost a month,” he debated gently. “I think I can manage.”   
Georgia glanced between the both of them, smiling dotingly.   
Roza shot her mother a glare, as if to argue, we’re just friends, before heading over to the bar with Vay to order everyone’s meals.  
“Your mother is very charming,” Vay said with a small smile.   
“She has to be, to put up with all of us,” Roza sniggered.   
“True,” he teased.   
Once the food was ordered and paid for, they returned to the table of rowdy Kiezars. Vay chose not to partake in the beer drinking contest that was going on, and Logan was too young to join in. Instead, the Eladrin took up a spoon and balanced it on the end of his long nose to entertain the boy.   
Logan picked up his own spoon and began practicing the art of balancing it on his sharp, Kiezar nose. Every time the spoon slipped off, Vay would pull a funny face to make Logan laugh.  
Roza watched from across the round table, rolling her eyes and shaking her head.  
Vay grinned back at her with his almost childlike innocence.  
Soon the steaks were brought over and more beer was added. The table went quiet whilst the Kiezars began to wolf down their dinner.   
Vay ate his salad with all the delicacy of a deer, surrounded by a pack of lions.   
Roza had forgotten what it was to sit down with her family and enjoy their company. She had shut herself away for so long, eventually fleeing Barass to escape the loss of her fiancé. Every minute that went by was making it harder and harder to cut all ties from Vay’len.   
Their steaks finished and Vay’s salad successfully nibbled away, Roza’s family ordered desserts and more drinks. She was starting to feel better and more energised from her bloody piece of steak, until a wave of anger mixed with pain hit her like a punch to the face.   
Roza writhed in her seat, screwing her face up with rage. The glass in her hand smashed, due to how hard she was crushing it and a dribble of beer seeped out onto the wooden table.   
“Roza?” Theo sensed the heat and predicted the stress that his daughter was going through, as she struggled not to slam her fists through the dining table.  
She unscrunched her face, trying to calm herself down. Where was this rage coming from?  
“Roza, your eyes have gone red,” Vay said, concerned but gentle.   
She could feel the fangs lengthening in her mouth, and had to use all of her will power to overcome the intense need to hunt.  
“Was it from the food?” her mother fretted.   
“I doubt it. Michael ate meat for ages and never had this reaction,” Vay informed.   
“Michael,” Roza repeated. She got up, kicking her chair out behind her.  
Her father followed suit, “Roza, calm down,” he said assertively.   
Tears began to fill her blood red eyes, overcome with the anguish and hate that was boiling throughout her body. Something – someone was calling to her, crying out for revenge.   
“Let’s step outside,” Theo ordered, still remaining strict yet calm.   
“I have to leave,” she seethed. “You’ll be better off without me.”  
“That isn’t true,” Georgia and Vay’len said in unison.   
By this point, other patrons were beginning to eye their table with curiosity.   
Theo grabbed Roza by her forearm and wrenched her out the front door with all of his strength. Her knees went weak briefly, as the fear and anger and regret consumed her. All of her senses dropped out for a few seconds, and she wasn’t sure if she had passed out or if her father had knocked her out.   
She came to in a side street, kneeling on the dusty floor with her father leaning over her, one hand cautiously resting on the handle of his main galdarka.  
“Do it,” she begged, “End it.”   
Roza had never seen her father look so grave. No hint of a grin, his lips were pressed tightly together.  
“I would have torn everyone inside that place apart. Innocent people. I’m a monster, and I should already be dead. I already lost, and I know that Gardoz didn’t want to take me! I clung and clung on to survival,” she ranted into her palms, “I failed. I don’t deserve to be here or anywhere at our gods’ side.”  
Theo pulled his blindfold off, as it was doing nothing but getting soaked with his tears. He offered his hand to his shattered daughter, “Come on. Let’s go on a walk.”   
“Don’t you hear me? I don’t want to be here anymore,” she roared, everything that she had been bottling up for weeks now exploded out of her.  
“Take the next ship out of here, then. We can catch up to you later,” he murmured, still offering his hand.  
“I don’t mean here, I mean –”  
“I know what you mean,” Theo said with understanding. “Will you at least go to Claynore first? Say ‘hi’ to Eldridge, Sheri, Alania and Kayzu for me. I mean, it will be a damn shame to have to give Zachary my galdarkas instead. He’s a bit of a damn fool, but we still love him.”   
“Wha- you’re galdarkas?”  
Giving up on helping his daughter onto her feet, he sat down in the sandy street beside her, drying his face on his sleeve. “Gone and made your old man teary eyed,” he admitted, “Aye, Rozaline, what do you think I trained you all these years for? It was always you, and always will be you… I knew straight away, that you would be my Gardozian successor.” 

Chapter Eight  
Hardest Part

Roza walked the back streets of the city with her father until she was calm again. She could only assume that her sudden outburst had something to do with Michael Zainadir, wherever he was, at least he was still alive. She wondered if she was somehow bonded to him by the marks on her wrist. After all, he had turned her – he had claimed her mortal life and given her a cruel eternity.   
“I will go tonight,” Roza decided, “I’ll take the first ship to Claynore. I think I’ll find Michael there.”  
Theo pushed on the tall back gate to their garden and waited for his daughter to go first. “Did you sleep with him?”  
“What? Who? Michael?” she blurted as they entered the training courtyard.   
“So ya did,” he grinned knowingly.  
“I don’t see why that matters,” she sulked. “I felt sorry for him, he’d never been with anyone before.”   
“You pity fucked a vampire?” her father asked bluntly.   
“He wasn’t a vampire at that point.”   
“Did you use protection?”   
“Pa! Why are we having this conversation?” Roza argued, mortified beyond belief.   
“I’m makin’ sure that there isn’t a weird little vampire spawn growing inside you,” he said defensively.   
“What the heck?”  
Theo shrugged, “I dunno, your mother reads a lot of weird shit.”   
“Sure, blame ma,” she chuckled dryly. “Do you think everyone has gone to bed already?”   
“You’re the one with workin’ eyes,” her father joked. “Heightened, eyesight, I take it?”  
“Yeah.”  
“I remember Corbin seein’ really well. He could move insanely fast as well,” he said, turning to her before heading inside the house. “I’ve taught you everything I know, Rozaline. I think you’ll surprise yourself with what you can do. Promise me, you won’t give up?”  
Roza touched her father’s arm before closing in for an embrace.  
“You’re a Kiezar. You can move mountains,” Theo uttered, pressing his forehead to hers.   
“I thought we lived and died to serve and protect the empire?” she pointed out.   
“Is that what you want to be remembered for?”  
“What happens if I say no?” Roza asked with a wry smile.  
“Then I disown you right here and right now,” he joked again, giving her shoulder a squeeze of encouragement.   
“At least it isn’t a boring existence,” she said.   
Theo gave her shoulder a pat, “You better go say goodbye to your elf boy. We’ll take care of him whilst you’re gone…”  
“Why does that worry me?” Roza chewed her lip.  
Her father finally retired inside, laughing manically.   
Rozaline crossed the back garden, sitting on a bench beside the small raised pond. She prodded the surface of the water, watching the dark water ripple out from her touch. I can move mountains…  
She scented Vay’len before she spotted or heard him, as he always moved without sound and breathed softly enough to almost never be detected. She was uncertain about where he had appeared from, but he swiftly joined her on the wooden bench without hesitation.   
“You’re leaving?” he checked.  
“How long were you eavesdropping on us?” Roza countered.   
“It’s hard not to. You both speak so loudly,” Vay replied. He sat tall and stiff, resting his palms on his knees.  
She looked at him and was reminded of the first day that they had met – the aura of superiority and pride that he’d portrayed to cover up his bewilderment and anxiety during that first carriage ride that they had shared together. Anxious that he had made a terrible decision by hiring me, perhaps?  
Roza was aware that he had orchestrated everything. He had asked Melody Hollington to convince her brother, the king of Ayrev to seek help from the Equilibrium Empire. To acquire a Gardozian knight to clean up the streets of Raydon. What he could have never anticipated was how different Rozaline Kiezar was in person, compared to how she was presented on paper.  
Vay had thought that they would have spent every day at each other’s throats, and fearing that he had hired the wrong person for the job, he had kept his distance from Roza. But he had seen her risk her life time and again for other people. He had seen her loyalty, determination and bravery. He had grown to trust her very quickly. Vay’len wasn’t sure if he could let someone as special as Rozaline just walk out of his life.   
Almost as if they were reading each other’s minds, Roza was thinking about how he had planned it all and murmured, “Remember when you came clean about being the one to hire me? You called me an egomaniac and I resorted to attacking you with tickles?”  
“Please don’t start that again,” he smirked. Her words had interrupted his deep thoughts, and he began to fret about where her questions were leading.  
“Aye, you said something in elvish to me.”  
Vay looked up at the stars and recalled that day. He remembered putting a sling around her arm, warning her about the vampires and the assassins that would come for his family… if only I hadn’t been so arrogant and self-assure, maybe I wouldn’t have missed the real threat.  
“Avá virnë,” he repeated, “Avá virnë, Rozaline.”   
“Is that an insult?” she puzzled.   
“No,” Vay uttered, his cheeks flushing red. “It translates as ‘never change’.”   
“Unfortunately, I have quite clearly changed,” she said impishly. “I’ll have a lot of time on my hands to learn elvish. Avah virnay, Vay’len. There was an elvish word for vampire as well?”  
“Agaryulnaer,” he replied with a small smile.   
“What a mouthful.”  
“Exactly,” he tucked his chin into his collar and chuckled, “It translates as blood-sucker.”   
“I see,” she said slowly and sighed. Time for the hard part... “I know how much you hate sailing… you should explore Vyn’ra for a while longer. My family will be more than happy to have you stay – as long as you can put up with them for, anyway. I just – I just can’t stand it here anymore. Everything reminds me of Joe.”   
“I don’t know how to repay your families’ hospitality,” he admitted softly, “It’s as if they’ve known me all my life, and have welcomed me back home. I thought I’d never feel at home, or at peace ever again…”  
“Well, we might be Kiezars, but we’re not all that bad,” she said modestly.   
“From what I’ve heard of Theo Kiezar… from what I pictured, I thought that he had pushed you into this violent life that you live. He is strict, but I can see that he deeply loves his family,” Vay explained.   
“No one ever pushed me into becoming a Gardozian follower,” she said, swinging her legs backwards and forwards beneath the bench. “Every year I was given a choice to take up a sword and practice or take up a different hobby instead. But I always reached for the sword.”   
“I’m glad of that. I chose to read books and practice incantations. Do you know that elves often change their names when they become fully fledged?”  
“Once your wings were fully grown, you mean, little sparrow?” she couldn’t help but tease. “Are you tellin’ me that you actually chose to be called Vay’ren?”   
He shook his head, and almost rolled his bright eyes, “I kept the name that my parents chose for me.”  
“Your name constantly reminds you of them?” she asked, her emotions flipping into sudden sincerity.   
“Yes, but I’m glad of it.” Vay looked down at his lap and as much as he enjoyed Roza’s company, he couldn’t keep talking to her all night. “Well, we will meet each other again, won’t we?” he asked apprehensively.   
“I’m sure it can be arranged,” she said with a wry grin.   
He held the mental picture of the way she looked back at him in that moment. Treasured the moment.   
Roza swung off from the bench, eager to leave fast before she changed her mind.  
“Rozaline?” he called, sounding slightly feeble. He stood up and his hand slipped to his belt, acquiring the silver, white dagger that had belonged to his mother. “It’s an elven custom to gift something personal to a loved one, in need of guidance.”  
She turned back, looking down at the beautiful weapon and then up into his equally lovely face. “I can’t take that. It was Vynna’s,” she objected.   
Vay’len placed the ornately engraved, sheathed dagger into her hand. “I’ll just have to retrieve it again in the near future,” he smiled hopefully.  
Roza finally began to make sense of his words. “How do you love me?” she asked breathlessly.  
He held her gaze, his chest tight with nerves. “Do you want a list of reasons?” he blurted, not meaning to sound audacious, but he wanted Roza to not forget about him.  
“I mean as friends, or something more?” she corrected herself quickly.   
“I – I haven’t thought that far ahead yet,” Vay admitted bashfully.   
“I’m not really in the right place, right now,” she said hesitantly. “I’ll only drag you down with me.”  
“That’s not true,” he blurted again.  
Roza closed her hand around the dagger, brushing her fingers against his wrist. “Goodbye, Vay’len Nailir,” she bid. She turned away, leaving through the back gate, carrying a total of five weapons with her.   
Rozaline Kiezar disappeared out of his life again, and all Vay could do was stare and stare at the spot where she had been standing when he had confessed his feelings for her.

Chapter Nine   
Reflections 

Roza felt more at ease on the ocean. Yet, even after leaving her home, her family and Vay a few days ago her conscience was still not clear.  
She had been swinging from side to side in a hammock all day, regretting the things that she had said to Vay. Regretting the things that she hadn’t said as well.  
I could have handled that better, she admitted to herself. Roza tried her best to focus on what was to come, hopeful for the future, instead of dwelling on her past mistakes.  
After her outburst in the steak house, she could tell that it had something to do with Michael. He had been in trouble, enraged and vengeful. He had called to her and Roza had felt him as if he was standing behind her, watching her. Passing on the rage to her.  
She needed to see Michael, and something in her gut was telling her that he wasn’t at all far away.  
“Are you still pretending to be asleep, Gardozian?”   
Roza looked down from her hammock at the sailor that was addressing her. “Yes,” she uttered wearily.   
He grinned back at her and she noticed that a few of his teeth were missing. “I brought you some spice cake,” he offered.   
“I’m on a diet.”  
“Just a tiny bit wouldn’t hurt, surely? It’s my mother’s recipe,” the gap-toothed sailor said.  
A second sailor entered the sleeping quarters, spotted his workmate offering the mysterious woman cake, and hauled him away so quickly, anyone would have thought that he was putting his hand inside a tiger’s jaw.   
“Aye, Stannar, what are ya doin’?” the new sailor barked, “Can’t you see the lady is resting?”  
“I was only bringin’ her some of my spice cake.”  
“You wanna lose a hand, idiot?” the second sailor argued in a hushed voice. He was tall, skinny and by his dark hair colour, Roza presumed that he was an imperial from Claynore.   
She scooted out of her hammock and approached the sailors.   
The imperial one practically flinched back from her, whilst his friendly companion continued to stare at her with awe.  
“I’ve never met a Gardozian knight before,” he said with wonder.   
“You generally don’t want to,” his buddy quivered.   
Stannar ignored him, still offering a slice of cake wrapped up in a cloth to the muscular woman. “What’s your name, knight?” he asked.   
“Kiezar,” she replied, not entirely sure that she still deserved the right to call herself a Kiezar. She offered the friendly sailor a handshake all the same, “Stannar, is it? You got llichivarian blood?”  
“Is my small stature that obvious?” he chuckled, bewildered to be shaking the knight’s hand.   
“More your movements, really,” Roza shrugged. She always read a lot from people’s movements, it had been the first thing her father had taught her – watch out for the ones that are light on their toes.  
The imperial sailor still stood a few feet back, almost reeling in shock. “You’re a Kiezar?” he couldn’t help but pry, “Leona Kiezar?”  
“She’s my aunt,” Roza said, thinning her eyes slightly.   
“Then you’re – you’re Theo Kiezar’s daughter?” the imperial worked it out for himself.  
“Is that good?” Stannar asked cheerfully.   
“Uhm,” his buddy looked at the doorway and then back to the knight, smiling nervously, “Depends how you define, good.”   
Roza sensed that the imperial sailor was counting how many steps it would take him to escape if she decided to turn violent. “We’re well known for our impulsive and unhinged behaviour,” she said with a relaxed smile.  
“Sounds like my brother,” Stannar said with a laugh.   
“Well, did you need something?”  
“I – I’m just happy to have shook your hand, Miss, uhh, Sir? Lady?” he stumbled on his words.   
“You can call me Roza. Now, did you need someone killed?” she grinned wickedly.   
“No, nope, not that I can think of,” Stannar replied hastily.   
“Aye, do you have any dice, or cards? I’m goin’ out of my mind with boredom,” she admitted.  
“Yep, yeah, we got some dice,” he said eagerly. “You joinin’ us, Jaru?”  
“I think I’ll need to get a drink first,” replied the stunned imperial.   
“Get us one, will ya?” Roza said, turning her grin on Jaru before he finally escaped outside. 

***

Roza spent all evening on the deck of the transport ship, drinking, gambling and laughing with the rest of the crew. She didn’t have to prove her worth or tell her story to the sailors. She could just relax and have fun.  
As the evening grew old, Roza’s new acquaintances began to retire to their hammocks with their bellies full of grog. Yet she was still alert – highly alert in fact – now that the moon was out and the stars were blossoming across the sky, the ocean reflecting the white light back up into Roza’s eyes.  
“Limping frigate on the starboard side,” the look-out called down from the crow’s nest.  
Roza got up from the barrel that she had been lounging on, strolled across the deck and got a better look at the struggling ship that they were about to race past.   
“Should we wake the captain up?” a sailor frantically asked his helmsman.   
“No. He put me in charge, and I say we carry on our course,” replied the man at the wheel.  
Roza was nearly on the other side of the ship and she could hear them arguing. Damn, my hearing is good. Her eyesight even better, as she spotted the green Ayrevian sails of the approaching frigate, the deck was glossy and slick with water. No, it is too thick to be water. A gust of sea air rolled across the water and instead of brine, Roza could scent the blood that coated the Ayrevian ship. The scent of death, she knew all too well, welcoming her more than ever.   
She rushed up to the helm of the ship, and barked at the man steering their imperial cruiser, “We must see if there are any survivors on that ship.”  
The helmsman was taken aback, and had no idea where the big woman had materialised from. “My orders are to get us to Claynore before sunrise,” he informed.  
“But Ayrev are our allies,” Roza argued, pointing to the crippled frigate.   
“You must be mistaken into thinking that I take orders from passengers, lady,” he held his ground arrogantly.   
“And you must be mistaken into thinking that I won’t cut your fucking head off for ignoring orders from a Gardozian knight,” she seethed. She didn’t make a move to attack, but the threat projecting from her was still enough to make most people soil their undergarments.   
He looked down at the pair of ivory swords on her belt and frowned slightly, “If you kill me, who is going to take the wheel?”   
“I was born and raised on ships most of my life, it wouldn’t exactly be hard for me to commandeer this one in the name of the empress,” she argued.  
“I suppose the captain wouldn’t mind if that was the case,” the helmsman finally backed down. “Bring in the sails.”  
Roza hurried back to the starboard side of the deck, repeating the order to slow their ship down. The scent of blood invaded her nostrils more so as the helmsman brought them closer to the gore covered Ayrevian frigate.  
“Anchor us here,” she ordered.  
After a few minutes, the imperial ship lurched to a halt, but Roza kept her balance. Sailing would always be a part of who she was.  
“Should we send out a life raft?” the helmsman bellowed.   
“No need,” Roza called back, jogging backwards, lining up the distance between ships that she needed to cross. She sprinted across the deck, vaulting over the railing, pushing off from her ship to the other.  
“What?” The helmsman yelled, “What is she doing? She’s insane!”  
“Erm, well, she is a Kiezar,” the sailor next to him pointed out.

Chapter Ten   
The Good One 

Michael sat beside the door of the captain’s cabin, and hadn’t moved for the past two days. He had waited for dawn, for the sunrise to claim him, but he’d quickly realised that they had sailed close enough to Claynore and its thick clouded sky for there to be no daylight. A haven for vampires, and other creatures that dwelled in the darkness to exist. No wonder the country was plagued by Moriquen attacks.  
“Nikita, at least let me clean up the cabin for you,” he begged through the broken door on the third night. He could imagine that imperial woman had barricaded herself inside, by propping furniture up against the unhinged door. He doubted that it would be enough to keep him out. He had laid waste to every crew member for the injustice that had been forced upon Nikita and the other young women aboard. He knew that they were hiding somewhere from him as well, and rightly so, there was no excuse for what I have done.   
It is what you are now, don’t fight it, argued the darker side of his mind.  
“Is this the same way that you cleaned my father’s body up?” she sobbed from within the cabin.   
“I didn’t – I,” Michael struggled to find the words. He cupped his forehead in his bloodstained hands. “There will be a burial ceremony for him when we get to Claynore.”   
“We won’t get to Claynore, Doctor,” she screamed back through the wooden walls sarcastically, “Because this ship isn’t moving! If anything, it is going backwards.”  
“I don’t know how to fix it,” he muttered.  
“Limping frigate on the starboard side,” a voice called from far away, carried across by the sea’s breeze.   
Michael looked up from his hands to search for where the male voice was coming from. Another ship was speedily approaching, its navy sails billowing with air.  
“Anchor us here,” a woman ordered loudly.   
He got to his feet, resting his back against the outside of the cabin wall. He stared across the glittering water, up at the navy sails of the ship that was slowing down to investigate. He spotted the platinum blond hair of the outspoken woman, watched as she backed away from the railings of her ship to get a run up.  
“It couldn’t be her…” Michael said under his breath.  
The long legged woman leapt from her ship to his, skidding through the viscose blood that had been his doing. She crashed into the mainmast, leaving a dent in the thick wood. She straightened up, as if she had merely stumbled over a stone.  
A cold sensation rippled down Michael’s spine, “Roza?”  
“What in Gardoz’s name happened here?” she barked, wicking away the blood from her shins with her hands.  
“I don’t – I can’t remember,” he admitted.  
She turned to face her maker, drawn to his unnatural power. “I can,” she barked again, “You lost your temper, I felt your rage from another country.”   
“Is that how you found me?” Michael puzzled.   
Roza shrugged, “I don’t know.” She sounded a little disappointed, “I’m supposed to be the murderer, Michael. You’re supposed to be the good one.”   
“I tried,” he said with a strained voice. “I’m not as strong as I thought I was…”  
“Is it just you here?” she asked plainly.   
“No, there are some young women onboard,” he informed, avoiding Roza’s piercing eyes. “They’ll need some coercing to come out, and I don’t blame them.”  
Roza gestured to the cabin door, “In there?”  
“Please don’t hurt me,” Nikita whimpered within.  
“I’m here to help,” Roza called through the cracks. She was still coming to terms with what Michael had been capable of, without even wielding a weapon. He reeked of blood and shame.  
“I heard you, you said you’re a murderer as well,” the merchant woman fretted.   
“I’m a Gardozian follower, it’s kind of our job,” Roza attempted to reassure.   
“Which family?”   
“Kiezar.”   
“Do – do you know Sir Samuel Eldridge?” Nikita stuttered.   
“I do, in matter of fact, he is my godfather and I’m on my way to visit him,” Roza replied gently.   
After a moment, furniture began to scrape across the wooden floor and the young woman pushed on the broken door. Roza helped her move it to one side.  
Dried blood still crusted in his hair, Michael looked down at her, his eyes full of sorrow as he silently begged for forgiveness.  
Nikita evaded him completely and addressed the Gardozian. “Sir Eldridge knew my father,” she informed.   
“He knew my father too,” Roza said with a playful grin. “Do ya think you could coax the other girls out from hidin’?”   
She nodded slowly and began to bravely navigate the bloodstained Ayrevian ship.  
“She’s stunning. I can see why you murdered everyone here for her now,” Roza predicted. “I would have done the same.”   
Michael expelled a long sigh. “Thank you for finding me, Rozaline.”   
“You’re not off the hook yet. You still have some explaining to do – why you ran away, for a start,” she accused brutally.   
“Can it wait until I’ve had a wash?” he murmured. “Nikita has some cargo, and her father’s body to transport. Will you give me a hand?”   
“Do I even want to ask how her father passed away?”  
“I wouldn’t advise it,” he said dryly. 

***

Roza made sure that all of the survivors from the Ayrevian ship were safe and comfortable on the Barassian transport cruiser before she fetched a bucket of water for Michael. She found him in the tiny cargo hold, taking stock of Nikita’s fabrics.   
“I told her that I would help her sell her fabrics, make sure that her family business still thrives,” he explained absentmindedly, as if he hadn’t realised that Roza had joined him.  
“I should tip this over your head,” she snarled, holding up the wooden bucket. “What were you thinkin’?”  
“I clearly wasn’t,” Michael said through clenched teeth. “I heard Nikita screaming, I went to the cabin. I – I found the captain, I mean, he had ripped her dress off. She was so innocent, yet so strong, but… I can’t remember anything after that, I lost it. I lost control.”  
“Will it happen again?” Roza checked.   
He took the bucket from her and began to wash the dried blood from his hands. “I can’t say,” he admitted.  
“Because,” Roza hesitated, standing as tall as possible, “Because I was raped as well.”  
“What?” Michael asked seriously, midway through splashing water over his head.  
“When I got back to Raydon, my guards turned on me. They’d had orders from Gustav Hollington to take me, and I was still weak and not used to my new body,” she said, folding her arms to stop her body from shaking uncontrollably.   
“Your own guards abused you?” he uttered, barely believing what he was hearing.  
“No, they were palace guards,” Roza replied, closing her eyes briefly. Talking about it made her relive it. It made the traumatic experience real. “They’re dead now. Gustav was the root of the problem, and he’s dead too.”  
“Rozaline,” he reached out for her. His cold demeanour slipped away, as he began to understand her pain.   
“And you weren’t there,” she accused.  
“You’re right, I wasn’t,” Michael admitted. “I got a taste for blood. There’s nothing else like it. It is what I – what we are now. I thought I could fight it. I got scared and I ran away.”  
“We could have helped each other, we still can,” Roza said, letting her arms fall back to her sides. She watched the water drip from his brown hair. “You know I’ll always protect you.”  
“I’m sorry, I should have been there. If anyone ever touches you again –”  
“I can handle myself,” she said quickly, “Take your shirt off, I’ll go find you a new one.”  
Michael did as she said, removing his torn and blood stained shirt. How do I keep failing everyone? His thoughts tormented him in the dark, damp space beneath the deck of the cruiser.   
Roza returned in a matter of minutes, holding a striped sailors shirt. “Will you come to the temple of Gardoz with me?” she asked.   
“Of course. Once we’ve made sure Nikita and the other women are safe?”  
“Aye.”  
Michael took the clean shirt from her, slicking back his wet hair. Roza watched him, realising that his appearance had changed over their weeks apart, or maybe she had pictured him a certain way in her mind. Since they had met, she had found him attractive and his whole innocent farm boy background had warmed her heart. He was one of the good ones, just like Joe had been.  
Yet now, Michael was different. He had an edge now, a killer instinct, just like her. Watching him, looking into his piercing green eyes was almost like looking at her reflection. Roza wasn’t sure if she was still attracted to him, or wary of him. Either way, Michael was radiant now, glowing like starlight. The farm boy was gone, replaced by a deadly hunter.   
“Are you still mad with me?” he wondered, returning her intense gaze.  
“No,” Roza said, “You wouldn’t be in this mess if it hadn’t been for me.”  
“Well, actually, Vay’len was the one that hired us both,” Michael said, shrugging his shoulders and smiling slightly.   
“True, all of this is that damn wizards’ fault,” she said playfully. “This is just me sober. I’m still I’ used to it as well.”   
“Right, I drank two bottles of brandy and felt nothing,” he informed, “Sober or not, you still seem to be the same Roza that I remember.”   
“I’m not sure if that’s a good thing,” she said with a wicked grin. 

Chapter Eleven   
Imperial Counsel 

Empress Alania sat at her glossy black piano, distracted by her consort restlessly pacing up and down their royal study room.  
He was tight lipped, even for a Maiyari born llichivar. Small, yet dangerous. Never the less, there was no one else in the world the empress would rather share her life with.  
She swivelled around on her piano stool to address the blue haired llichivar, “Is something wrong?”  
“Not for you to worry about,” Aryn said to the floor, glaring at the embroidered rug.  
“Will you sit still, then?” Alania asked with an impish smile.  
He tried, she had to give him that. He stopped pacing and pressed a claw tipped hand up against a formidable bookshelf.   
“Sheri’s work to heal our skies isn’t working, is it?” the empress surmised.   
“You should ask her,” Aryn uttered, partly lost in his own thoughts.   
“I would if she was here, but she’s still at the Glade Spire,” she pointed out.  
He set off again, prowling across the rug.  
“Are we any closer to finding out where all of the Moriquen are spawning from?” Alania pondered aloud, not really expecting any answers from her distracted partner.   
“Somewhere in the Barren lands,” he uttered again.  
“But that is miles and miles of land.”  
“You know I’d scour every inch of it to put your mind at ease,” Aryn offered, stopping at the other side of the piano.  
“And then what do I do if they capture you?” the empress fretted, “I’m not entirely certain that you’re even death proof anymore, and I don’t want to have to find out the hard way.”  
“I could… take a team with me,” he said slowly, as if subjecting himself to working with others was agony to think about.  
She saw the grimace on his face and began to laugh. “I could go with you.”  
“Definitely not,” Aryn said sternly.  
Alania rolled her eyes, “Fine. I worry though, you know that I do. The Moriquen haven’t attacked in a long time, but they don’t just disappear. Who knows what they are plotting? They’re probably digging a big chasm beneath us right now, and the whole of Aze will sink into the depths of Yaima.”  
He listened intently, rounding the piano to stand at her side. “Then, let us continue building our own tunnels under the city?”   
“I don’t think we have enough finances to sustain that sort of structure. The people are already crying out for more housing and places of worship, how can I justify building something underground that they are never going to get any use out of?” she expressed her turmoil.  
“It is for their protection,” he argued lightly.   
Alania anxiously began to toy with her wavy, deep brown hair. “We can’t borrow anymore gold off Keira or William,” she continued to fret.  
Aryn hated to see her this way. He crouched down next to her, his chin almost resting in her skirt covered lap. “Leave that to me to worry about, menya kalroz,” his words of devotion turning into the forgotten language of their ancestors.   
A brief knock on the study room door was barely warning enough for Kayzu’s intrusion.   
“Are you in the middle of something?” the prince smirked mischievously.  
“What do you think?” Aryn hissed, his aqua eyes glaring at his brother-in-law.  
“Only, there has been a worrying report about an abandoned Ayrevian transport frigate that was on route to us, its whole crew massacred. Shredded apart, in fact,” he informed energetically. “Also, my arm has jammed up again.”  
“Your timing couldn’t be more impeccable,” Aryn said sarcastically, straightening up onto his talon tipped feet.  
“Is that why you’ve been so restless?” Alania figured out, “Did you find that ship, Aryn?”  
He grumbled something unintelligible under his breath.  
“You’ve already investigated it?” Kayzu asked, trying to adjust his joint-locked metal arm. “Who or what even has the ability to tear a man in half?”  
Alania gave her consort a mischievous glance, “Well, I do know one person with that sort of capability.”  
“Yes, and he can’t tolerate sailing,” Aryn pointed out.  
“I was talking about you, my dragon. Who do you mean?”  
“Balvine,” he replied, folding his skinny arms.   
“No one has seen Corbin in over ten years,” Alania murmured. She turned back to her piano, looking down at the ivory keys, missing her old friend.  
“I thought he ran away to be with Diana?” her brother said absentmindedly, getting frustrated with his prosthetic arm. “A bit inconvenient, if you ask me. He could have dealt with this Moriquen problem already, if he hadn’t vanished.”   
“He deserves his own happiness,” Alania defended. She got up from her stool, her blue skirt rippling behind her. “I’m going to take a bath I think.”   
“Aryn, give me a hand, heh,” Kayzu smirked.  
The empress rolled her eyes as she left the room.  
“I could cut the other one off for you?” the llichivar prowled towards the prince. “Then you would have perfect balance.”   
Kayzu laughed nervously.   
Without warning, Aryn punctured his dragon-like claws into the metal crafted arm, un-jamming the gears as if he was picking a locked door. “You should look into getting something more reliable,” he said tiredly, withdrawing his claws and taking a step back from the prince.  
“Sure, I’ll just grow a new arm,” Kayzu teased wildly, “I heard you Maiyari born can do that, right? Being half reptile, and all.”   
Aryn gave him a withering look that would send most men running.   
Kayzu returned the glare with a charming smile. “You don’t suppose Victor Claylorne would mind travelling here to readjust my arm?”  
“Or you could go to him,” he hissed, making for the exit, “Give us all a bit of peace and quiet for a few weeks.”   
Kayzu chuckled, clenching and unclenching his metallic fingers. “You really are sweet, brother.”  
The llichivar sighed through his nostrils as he finally slipped out of the room.

Chapter Twelve   
Awakening 

“So this is Claynore,” Michael said, stepping onto the cold, dark land that he had heard so much about. He carried two of Nikita’s crates, stacked on top of each other, peering over the top of them to witness the mostly grey landscape for the first time. The heavily clouded sky made it hard to tell what time of day it was.  
“You don’t sound very impressed,” Roza said with a sardonic grin.   
“I haven’t seen the city yet,” he shrugged, despite the weight of the crates of fabric.   
Roza carefully lifted the wrapped up body of Nikita’s father in her arms and nodded for the imperial merchant to lead on through the docks.   
“Aze was destroyed by Ananette around about the same time Raydon was,” Roza informed, “It has been rebuilding ever since.”  
Michael didn’t say anything, continuing to march behind Nikita across the worn cobblestone road as if it was his soul duty.   
“To save time, how about I go straight to the Gardozian temple and start preparing the burial for your father, Nikita?” Roza suggested.   
“At the temple? I thought only nobility was laid to rest there?” the young woman puzzled.   
“I’m sure we can make an exception,” she said with hope.  
Nikita’s face lit up with appreciation, “Thank you, Lady Kiezar.”   
Michael thinned his eyes, watching Roza gracefully walk away, with Mr Dovan’s body. It was easy to forget that imperials revered and respected her family in this country. He had always known her as his captain, but in Claynore, Roza was practically royalty.   
“It’s not too far to Aze, but we could hire a wagon so you don’t have to carry the crates for the journey,” Nikita suggested quietly.  
“Talking to me again, are we?” Michael said with a sly glance her way.   
She had indeed hid herself away on the Barassian cruiser for the final days of sailing, and Michael hadn’t exactly been social the whole time either.  
Nikita had been given plenty of time to think in solitude. “Rozaline seems to trust you,” she replied.   
“I’d rather walk, if that’s all right with you? I haven’t stretched my legs in a long time,” he said.   
“Yes,” Nikita said distantly, walking around muddy puddles and passing tall evergreen trees on their way to the city.   
After a long pause, Michael finally uttered, “Can we talk about what happened?”  
“I’ve been trying not to think about it,” she admitted, clasping her hands together and staring down at her feet.   
“Something bad happened to me in Raydon,” he told her, “It has changed me. You can hate me for not getting into the cabin in time, or for what I did after…”  
“Are you possessed by a demon?” Nikita asked timidly.   
“Not quite,” he blinked slowly. He wanted to tell her about her father, the guilt was eating away at him. Maybe now isn’t the right time.  
“I’ve seen how strong you are,” she said, looking at him only very briefly.   
“Its vampirism,” Michael blurted.   
Nikita gaped for a few seconds, glancing back at him, down to her hands, up at the dark sky. She wasn’t sure where to focus, or what to think. “That’s a real thing?”  
“You believe in demons, werewolves and mages? Why does this not seem real?” he asked with bemusement.   
“Nothing is known about vampires,” Nikita exclaimed.   
“There is a good reason for that,” said a stranger, stepping out of the line of trees.  
Not even Michael had heard, seen, scented or in any way sensed the new comer following them until he spoke. Michael stopped abruptly, setting down the merchant crates to study the burgundy cloaked and hooded stranger. He was slim and not particularly very tall, carrying an exquisitely designed rifle on his back.   
“Who are you?” Michael demanded.  
“Do you think that helping this young woman with her business will somehow absolve your guilt?” the mysterious new comer said knowingly. “Don’t let me stop you from trying. Who was the blond woman you were with?”   
Nikita leapt behind Michael, clinging to his arm for protection. It didn’t matter to her now that she knew what he was and what he was capable of. The ghostly, hooded stranger terrified her more than anyone she had ever met.  
“Why do you want to know?” Michael held his ground.   
“She’s a highly sought after woman,” the voice from the hood sounded tired and nonchalant. “She’s the only thing that will get the Moriquen to co-operate. I thought she might have been a Menosian…”   
“You’re not a dark elf, then?” Michael asked suspiciously.  
“Gods no,” the stranger chuckled, lightening up a bit. “I’m like you.”  
He frowned with confusion.  
The tracker removed his deep red, leather vambrace to reveal the scar on his inner wrist, inflicted by a pair of fangs. “I’ll find the woman myself,” he decided, covering up his wrist and retreating back towards the ancient trees.   
“She’s a Gardozian knight,” Nikita said with pride, “She will cut you into pieces.”  
“Gardozian, you say? Thank you for that bit of intell,” said the other vampire, before vanishing into the trees. 

***

Roza strode quickly, carrying the body towards Largo Town. She had only been to the Gardozian temple once in her life, many years ago, but she could still remember the way. The humidity and the fog, the fresh smell of pine trees was a comforting familiarity to her. She crossed a bridge that went over the long Tyn River, seeing no one else on the roads. Not until three quarters of an hour later, after passing a stack of tall trees did someone else join her.  
He emerged from the greenery and the fog, wrapped in burgundy material. “Interesting galdarkas. I thought the Buckeye family-line died out with Shiro,” the stranger said conversationally.   
“I’m a distant niece,” she lied through her smile.  
“Last I heard, those swords were in the empress’ trophy room. After Shiro Buckeye impaled me on them and deserted the empire,” he snarled beneath his hood, shrugging the strap of his rifle off his shoulder and into his hands.   
“I have a bad history of people pointing guns in my face,” Roza growled back, stopping to set Mr Dovan’s body on a vast tree stump. “It ends badly for them.”  
She moved fast, drawing her main galdarka. It sailed through the air faster than she could have ever anticipated. Roza was no longer fully human and it showed in her strength and reflexes. The killing-draw attack she had been perfecting all of her life only needed a fraction of the effort to achieve. She expected blood to explode from her target, slicing him from shoulder to hip, before she could even catch up with her own speed.  
But the burgundy stranger was no longer standing in front of her, nor was his mangled remains. Sharp pain spread across her back. Roza ignored it, spinning around with her galdarka held low.   
Her powerful opponent swept his leg across the ground, aiming to trip her up as she refocused on him.   
She lunged forwards instead, sweeping her weapon down, dropping the metal of the blade into her left hand and rammed the point of it through her attacker’s shoulder.   
He fell backwards, cursing, with the galdarka still imbedded in him. “Not again,” he seethed.   
Roza reached for the hilt of her shorter galdarka.   
“Wait,” the defeated man barked, holding up his hand. “You’re no Buckeye. You fight like a Kiezar. You have that same look in your eye…”  
“My – Theo Kiezar is blind,” Roza announced.   
“…As Bryn Kiezar,” he continued, sitting up, even with the length of metal shoved through his shoulder.  
“You knew my great-grandfather?” she puzzled, only recognising the name from her family tree. Making the man in front of her very old – perhaps not even a man at all, “You’re an elf?”   
“Half, actually,” he revealed, grunting in pain. He lowered his hood, revealing wild, straw coloured hair. “Your galdarka is sapping me.”   
“You’re Corbin-fucking-Balvine,” Roza realised.   
“Ahh, I mean, you’re not wrong,” he winced. “I’m certainly much rustier when it comes to combat.”  
“I am so sorry,” she apologised, wrenching her sword out of Corbin’s shoulder.   
“So am I,” he said with a groan, putting his hand across his gushing wound.   
Roza puzzled for a moment, before reaching behind her back to find half a dozen knives imbedded in her flesh. “That would explain the sting,” she grinned, before offering the ancient vampire her hand.   
Corbin accepted her help, climbing to his feet, whilst the hole in his shoulder still bled badly. “You must either be Lillian or Rozaline?” he figured.   
“Roza,” she introduced herself, beaming broadly. “No one has seen you in decades.”  
“No kidding. Last time I saw you, you were a little bundle of joy,” he smirked, “Now look at you.”   
“Not so little now?”  
“You look so much like Georgia,” Corbin uttered, his pale grey eyes straying towards the corpse that the young Kiezar woman had been carrying.  
“That isn’t one of my family members,” she quickly assured.   
He let out a breath of relief. “You’re on your way to Largo?” he asked.  
“Aye, to bury this man and return these galdarkas to Sam,” she replied, retrieving Mr Dovan’s body from the stump.   
“I’m going to need stitches,” he informed, joining her on the road. “There is something about galdarkas, the ancient and forgotten way that they were crafted, that makes them more fatal than any other sword.”   
“I knew they weren’t just beautiful works of art,” Roza said with mild surprise.   
Corbin removed the belt around his hips and used it as a bandage for his shoulder, stemming the flow of his dark blood. Compared to the blood of living creatures, Roza could barely scent his at all.   
He gestured for her to turn around, retrieving the small knives from her back. Blood soaked into her shirt, and she span around to face him again. She was sure that Corbin could tell that she didn’t smell of prey either.  
“You know that Moriquen are after you, Rozaline?” he murmured softly.   
“That was when I was in Ayrev.”  
“They are very much in Claynore,” he explained, his voice still calm and gentle. “You ought to know what is going on.” 

Chapter Thirteen   
Obsidian

Corbin’s gentle warning set Roza on edge, more so than having a gun pointed at her. There had to be a reason why a vampire, one as powerful and ancient as Corbin Balvine had personally tracked her down. But that information had to wait.   
Roza had her godfather to reunite with and a body to bury.   
The walls and the roof of the Gardozian temple were constructed from thick blocks of obsidian. Even as the sun began to set, the temple glistened like slick oil. The only remaining place of worship for the god of war, the lord of the underworld, Gardoz.   
Roza was excited to return and meet the other Gardozian knights-in-training. One of them sat on the steps that lead onto the decking around the temple. He gave her a small salute, “We weren’t expecting a funeral.”   
“I know,” Roza slowed, “Is Eldridge around?”   
“Yep,” the bearded squire got to his feet, and held his arms out to take the body from her. “He’s training ‘round the back. Allow me to handle your dead.”   
She handed Nikita’s father to the young man, her brows furrowing with appreciation. “Will you see to my friends’ wound as well?”   
“No problem,” the squire replied, his voice gruff.   
“Are you an Archengrave?” Roza guessed, taking in his dark, thick hair and matching beard.  
He looked her up and down with his equally dark eyes, smiling beneath his thick facial hair. One look at her manic grin and cunning green eyes was indication enough, “Yep, I’m Roylf Archengrave. You must be a Kiezar,” he said. “Sir Eldridge was expecting you months ago.”   
“I got a bit side tracked.”   
“Don’t let me keep you any longer,” he chuckled, backing up into the temple doorway. “I’ll make sure there is a meal set for you and your friend at the table.”   
Corbin followed Roylf inside, pressing down on the blood soaked belt that was secured around his shoulder.   
Roza strolled around the glossy temple, entering the vast training yard that was bordered by fir trees. The place where her father would have spent his childhood and all of his adolescent years, training with his fellow squires. Perfecting their sword arms in order to cull werewolves.   
A pair of younger squires were duelling under their elders’ instructions. They both immediately stopped and turned to face Roza.   
Samuel Eldridge was already smiling at her. He had spotted his god-daughter as soon as she had rounded the imposing black temple, striding along on legs long and powerful legs, she had grown broad and heavy set, almost as big as her father. She had Theo’s sleek nose, his earthy green eyes and of course that same wicked mouth. The only difference really was her bleached-sand coloured hair, which she had inherited from her mother’s Menosian side.  
“So the old man finally parted with his galdarkas?” Sam said in a way of greeting. For a man who was nearing forty, he still kept all of his boyish good looks.  
Roza shook her head as she approached. “These are Buckeyes’. I’ve come to bring them home,” she grinned broadly.   
“And here I thought that you were here to come see me,” he bantered, extending one of his thick arms out to envelop her with a hug.  
“That’s just the added bonus,” Roza said charmingly, inhaling the familiar scent of him, sweet like honey.  
Her god-father gave her a light squeeze before turning to the squires. “Let’s break for food,” he ordered.   
“I forgot to inform Archengrave that two more of my friends are on their way here. A Miss Nikita Dovan, apparently you are acquainted?” Roza said, turning abruptly serious.   
Sam wracked his memory for a moment. “Yes, the Dovans have their own store. I’ve bought some of my finest outfits there,” he recalled.   
Roza looked him up and down, judging his plain attire and smirked. She was quick to speak gravely again, “Her father passed away. I never caught his name, but I was wondering if there was a plot we could dig for him?”  
“Hauvis Dovan,” Sam uttered with disbelief, “Yes, of course. Anywhere, you may lay him to rest anywhere.” 

***

Rozaline Kiezar sat at the Gardozian dining table, taking up the spot where her father would have once grinned, drank and generally annoyed his fellow knights. She ate the venison that was served, but left her potatoes and carrots untouched.   
Corbin did the same, sitting opposite her drinking from a flat metal flask.  
“How is your arm?” she checked, whilst cleaning the soil from under her nails. It had taken her just short of an hour to dig a grave for Hauvis Dovan. All that was left to do now was to wait for his daughter to arrive.   
“I’ve suffered worse,” Corbin chuckled dryly. “What did you do to piss the Moriquen off so thoroughly?”  
“I impaled one of them,” Roza said with an unhinged grin. “I think she might have been an important one.”  
“Soros Volthan?”   
“We didn’t have time for introductions,” she shrugged, watching him intently. Wondering if he knew that she was a night hunter just like him.  
“We had just managed to arrange for the Moriquen to cease their attacks on Claynore,” Corbin said, his eyebrows knitting close together.   
Sam swallowed his bite of potato and joined the conversation. “Roza has been in Ayrev, haven’t you?”  
“Aye, but I couldn’t figure out why Moriquen would be there,” she said with a frown. “Or how they would be there? I thought they couldn’t sail?”  
“Underground tunnels,” her god-father informed. “Your parents left Ayrev before Ananette attacked it with her armies. They only joined the fight in Claynore. Theo trying to steal the glory, as always.”  
“Those tunnels aren’t meant to be there anymore,” Corbin snapped, slamming his flask down on the table with frustration.   
“I’m sorry to say, Mr Balvine, but dark elves aren’t the most trustworthy kind,” Sam said, unflinchingly.   
“They’re not all bad. Just like all of you surface dwellers aren’t purely good,” He argued calmly.   
“You mean us?” Sam puzzled.  
“Try telling that to Vay’len and his family,” Roza barked over both of them.  
“Why? What happened?” Corbin asked, eyeing her with curiosity.   
“Moriquen came to his home and murdered his parents. Soros got what she deserved, I’m just still fuming that I couldn’t defeat her brother,” she admitted coldly.   
“Vynna?” Corbin uttered, his eyes wide, “Vynna Nailir is dead?”  
“And Cezar Nailir.”   
“But little Vay’len?” Corbin dreaded the answer.   
“Is not so little anymore, either. He’s fine – well I say fine – he’s staying with my family.”  
Sam rolled his eyes, “Poor guy.”   
“How – how is that possible?” Corbin murmured. He remained still, his eyes losing focus on the fire lit room for a few moments.  
“Weren’t the Nailir family famed for locking away the Moriquens the first time?” Sam checked.   
“Aye, and it’s a good thing I’ve saved Vay’len’s ass twice now from being captured and tortured. He may be the only one left who can seal them away again,” Roza said vitally.   
“And you left him with Theo?” Sam asked with a small playful smile.   
“He’s safer with my family. I’m not in the right condition to protect him myself anymore,” she said hastily.   
“Why not?”  
Corbin gave her a steely look as she hesitated to respond. “The Moriquen aren’t our biggest threat. Something much worse has revealed itself,” he told them, wiping away a tear from his eye.

Chapter Fourteen   
Grandiose Tales

Roza left the dinner table, feeling even more uneasy. Corbin had been unclear, but whatever he had seen – who he had seen terrified him more than an army of Moriquen.   
Not as bad as Ananette, but pretty bad, he had informed.   
The half elf followed, close at her heels. She reached the room marked Kiezar and collapsed on the thickly quilted bed.   
“How long?” Corbin asked abruptly, closing the door behind him. His tone was scolding, as if he was talking to a misbehaving child.   
“Aye?” she propped her head up on the pillows.   
“Did you come in here to pretend to sleep?” he accused, folding his arms with a slight wince.   
Roza sat up a bit taller. “You’re not stupid, are ya?”   
“You haven’t figured out how to move and pretend to breathe naturally,” Corbin clarified, “So how long have you been turned?”   
“Less than a month,” she admitted.   
“How?” he remained cool, yet sombre.   
“Why the rifle? I thought you were a legendary archer, Emirhan?” she teased with a broad grin.   
“Times are changing. Don’t change the subject,” he reprimanded.   
“Why do you care?” Roza snapped. “You haven’t even bothered to contact my family for decades.”  
Corbin crossed the room, moving so fast that his body became a blur. “I don’t owe your family anything,” he hissed in her face.   
“I think I touched a nerve,” she laughed back at him.   
“Diana is gone – Vynna is gone, women that should have outlived me – gone. More failures to add to my already endless list,” he said, withdrawing from the bed. He tilted his head, staring at her belt. “Is that one of Vynna’s daggers?”   
“Vay lent it to me,” she replied, touching the delicate silver pummel of the weapon. “What happened to Diana?”  
“I couldn’t help her,” he muttered regretfully, “She was a time bomb.”   
“You gave up on her?” Roza accused.  
“She asked me to lock her away again,” Corbin said, collapsing into the armchair behind him.   
“How romantic,” she said sarcastically.   
Corbin scoffed, focusing his eyes of stone on Roza. “You remind me of her,” he uttered, “She was just as unforgiving.”   
“Most imperials are,” she said before sitting up quickly. “He’s here.”   
He continued to stare at her, “Who?”   
Michael, she could sense him close, as if he had just entered her room. Anticipation filled her cold veins, and she knew that he was waiting for her outside. 

***

Roza hurried to the large porch to meet Michael at the steps. The grey clouds above swirled on an unearthly wind, blocking out the white stars and moon.  
Corbin swaggered lazily behind her to meet the other vampire and tiny Nikita again. She was sat upon a horse, with only the light of two braziers outside the Gardozian temple to see.  
Accustomed to the dark, Michael’s eyes studied the impressive temple before he recognised the burgundy attire of the elf that had been looking for Roza.   
“We came as soon as we could, to warn you,” Michael said uneasily, offering his hand to help Nikita down from her steed.   
“Warn me of what?” Roza asked coolly.   
“That he was looking for you,” he gestured to Corbin with his chin as he helped Nikita down onto the dry dirt path.   
“We were hoping to find him, though,” she grinned, showing white fangs.   
“I am standing right here, you know,” Corbin protested.   
Michael puzzled, taking the reins of the black imperial mare.   
“This is Corbin,” Roza introduced, “And Corbin, this is Michael and Nikita.”  
Corbin looked between the three of them, his eyes darting quickly. He bowed his head towards the young lady, figuring it out somehow. “You have my condolences,” he uttered.   
Nikita still stuck close by Michael, but found herself less terrified of the night hunter now that his face was showing. He had kind, empathetic eyes and his lips fixed on a sad looking half-smile, as if he really did feel sorry for her loss.   
She looked to Roza, asking timidly, “Is Sir Eldridge still awake?”   
“I should think so,” she replied boldly. “He is happy for your father to lay to rest here. Everything is ready for the ceremony in the morning.”  
“Then, I should like to thank him,” Nikita said breathlessly.  
“I’ll take you to him,” Roza offered, beckoning from the top of the stairs.   
She went with the Gardozian follower, disappearing into the glossy temple, leaving Michael and Corbin to stare each other down.   
“Do you know where the stable is?” Michael asked awkwardly.   
“Around the back,” Corbin replied abruptly.   
“Do I have to be a knight to go there?”  
“How about you find out for yourself,” he said, his small smile turning more playful.   
Michael began to lead Nikita’s horse around the temple. He was unnerved to notice Corbin follow, descending the obsidian steps, strolling behind him and the horse. His movement was utterly silent, the way the half elf walked made him hard to detect.   
“Did you turn Roza?” he asked conversationally.   
Michael was hesitant to answer. “She asked me to.” He admitted, “She was dying in my arms… what was I supposed to do?”  
Corbin didn’t respond. He walked on ahead, guiding the way to the stables and pushing open a stall for the mare to rest for the night.   
“You thought that I might be able to help the two of you?” he spoke again, putting the pieces of the puzzle together in his head.   
Michael saw no reason not to trust the ancient vampire, no reason to hide the truth. If the stories were true, Corbin Balvine had been fighting evil forces long before he had even been born. Ironic, for someone who needed fresh blood to sustain his eternal life. If he can overcome his cravings, then surely he can help? He thought, as he began to remove the saddle and the headgear from the mare.  
“Yes, if you can,” Michael almost begged.   
“Cecilia Reinwood is who you need to find. She lives underneath the Glade Spire,” Corbin informed.   
“I’m not from around here, where is that?”   
“Ayrevian, right?” he perceived. “There is a small island just south from the coastline near Aze city. It is where the followers of Alois go, you can’t really miss the Spire.”  
“You’re telling me I’m at the wrong temple?” Michael said with a dry laugh.  
Corbin tilted his head and began to back out of the stall. “Gardoz rules the Underworld, a place that is barred off from undead creatures like us. Alois is his mischievous brother, a god of knowledge, plans and the place between life and death. That midpoint that no one really gets excited about, except for the Alois priests and priestesses…”   
“So we’re not dead, but we’re not alive either?” Michael wondered, following him back out into the grassy field behind the temple.   
“Alois’ greatest prank,” Corbin smirked.   
“What is stopping us from taking over Yaima?” he voiced his curiosity. “Turning everyone immortal?”   
“Nothing, I suppose,” he shrugged slightly, wincing as his stitches pulled, before disappearing into the forestry behind the grand temple. 

***

Michael remained outside, resisting the urge to hunt. Better to stay away from the living, breathing people inside the temple. Without sleep or company, Michael was left with nothing but his own thoughts.  
He wandered around the Gardozian temple several times, studying the craftsmanship of the obsidian glass. He thought about searching for Roza, but he couldn’t bear the disappointment in her eyes every time she looked at him.  
“You have visitors?” Michael overheard a woman ask. He stopped abruptly, realising that she was standing at the front door of the temple, firelight glowing against her porcelain skin. Her shoulder length hair was as glossy and black as the obsidian around her.  
“Mmhm, your niece finally showed up,” a man replied softly.   
“Rozaline?” her voice peaked, “I want to see her.”  
The man, Michael presumed was a Gardozian knight, not wearing his armour but fully equipped with galdarkas. He watched them from the cover of darkness, keen to learn who they were.  
“She’s not, erm, well at the moment,” the knight uttered, blocking the doorway with his broad body.   
“Is she wounded? I have the right to see my own family,” the dark haired woman argued.   
“The temple is off limits,” he held his ground.  
“When did you become such a bastard?”  
Michael could see the knight shrug his big shoulders and smile light-heartedly, “When you chose Dungus instead.”  
“Duncan,” she corrected coolly. “What did you expect, for me to wait around for you forever?”  
“I made many attempts, you just refused them all,” the knight countered playfully.   
“I expected you and my brother to die in the wars with the Moriquen. I couldn’t lose you both,” the woman said in a hushed, broken voice.  
“Gee thanks,” he chuckled.  
“Don’t give me that. Both of you are nothing but weapons for the empire, there is no room for marriage.”  
The words must have stung the knight, as he became hesitant and less jovial. “You were lucky that Theo took up your father’s galdarkas instead of leaving it for you to deal with,” he defended.   
“He’s my big brother – he was always going to become a Gardozian,” the pale woman said with dismay. “And if I had married you, I would have seen our firstborn thrown into the same savage servitude.”   
“To follow Gardoz is an honour,” he said sternly.   
“You are delusional, my dear,” she retorted, turning away to descend the steps of the temple. “I’ll be back in the morning, expecting to see my godsdamn niece.”   
“Leo,” the knight called to her, leaving his guard post to reach out for her, “Leona, please.” He caught her hand and she halted. “I’m sorry.”  
“Tell me Roza is going to be okay,” she pleaded.   
“She will be,” he reassured, brushing his fingers through her shiny hair. “She is just in a delicate state.”   
Leona Kiezar nodded. She touched his clean shaven face before kissing his lips. “Damn you,” she purred. 

Chapter Fifteen  
White Tiger 

Vay’len was far from accustomed to the heat of the Barassian desert. For the last few days he remained inside the Kiezar residence and only went out when the sun had gone down. He spent most of that time with Logan, teaching the youngest Kiezar elvish words, as well as ways to create basic herbal remedies.  
Vay had expected the household to abide by strict rules and a military regime, but the whole family was just as chaotic as he knew Roza to be. Rules and plans were made up as they went along, and they embraced differences and individuality.   
He had grown up in a very different environment. Everyone, apart from his kind-hearted mother had told him that Eladrins were the most superior race in Yaima. What could there be to learn from small minded humans?  
Lots of things, Vay realised, especially from the family he was staying with. They were fearless and determined. At most times they were busy, multi-tasking their jobs, yet always finding ways to improve their lives with new inventions. Always adapting, growing and creating, whilst his people still lived inside carved out trees and burnt wood instead of oil.   
“You’re looking dashing,” Lillian grinned, passing the elf in the hallway.  
Lost in his thoughts, Vay had lost track of how long he had been standing in front of the mirror, summoning up the courage to venture out into the dry heat. “Mankari Huzulon has invited me over for dinner tonight,” he informed.   
“That sounds thrilling,” she said with mock excitement.   
In many ways, Lily was a lot like Roza. They had so many similarities, physically they were identical and Vay’len had to remind himself that Roza was far, far away. There were major differences as well, in their mannerisms and attitudes. Lily was a lot like her strong and fierce mother, Menosian to the core, she was honest, honourable and in some ways self-righteous.   
The more time Vay spent around Theo Kiezar, the more he realised that Roza had adapted her personality from him. They were both the embodiment of a true Claynorian, cold and cunning on the surface, but once their loyalty was earned, it could not be shattered.  
He left the brightly coloured house, wondering if Roza had made it to Claynore yet. A feeling in his chest told him that she was safe and unharmed.   
He wondered if she ever thought about him, too.  
Roza’s favourite tailor had actually done a pretty good job on repairing his elven, iridescent robes. He had put them on earlier, not knowing or caring what Barassian fashion was meant to look like. His peacock coloured robes were what he was used to and made him feel at ease. More importantly, underneath his high collared robes, Vay wore the light blue shirt Roza had gifted him.  
Just when he thought he had taken a wrong turn, and that he would be lost in Vyn’ra for the rest of the evening, he spotted a mosaic of an orange lobster and knew that Huzulon’s estate was just around the corner.  
Wizards can’t get lost, he mused, smiling to himself. Vay gazed up at the chunky sandstone structure before him, which looked more like a fortress than a stately home. The gate was open and so was the front door, where a servant was waiting to take his bag and his coat.   
“I’d like to keep my attire, thank you,” Vay said politely. Once inside the cool, tiled building and directed where to go, he realised how blunt and perhaps haughty he must have been to the servant.   
Roza was so much better at talking to people like they were people, he needed lessons from her. As he speculated, he admired the indoor water features, trickling down the walls of the large square room.   
“Sri Nailir,” a male voice called from the next room, “Morrivo.”   
Vay followed the sound and found the mankari sat with his wife and children at a long, white table. He got up to greet his guest and personally pour the elf a drink.  
Vay bowed his long neck, “Morrivo, Mankari.”   
“You’ve been learning Barassian, my friend?” Lani Huzulon asked conversationally, presenting the elf with a small crystal glass of sweet liquor.   
“A little bit,” he replied modestly.   
“How are you finding it?”  
“Harder than Llichivarian,” Vay smiled politely, taking his spot at the table.  
The mankari introduced his family, two sons and a little girl, all with his dark, almond shaped eyes. His wife, Persula must have been half his age, beautiful enough to be mistaken for the Sultana of Barass.  
“I can imagine you are wondering how and why we extended an invitation for you to come visit us,” Lani began, “News travels fast across Vyn’ra.”   
“I hope it is the good sort of news,” Vay smiled awkwardly.   
“It is not every day you get to meet an Eladrin,” the mankari enthused, throwing his big arms up into the air with emphasis.   
Vay looked around the room self-consciously, watching the servants scurry around tirelessly to bring out food and more drinks for the table.   
“Your people don’t usually leave your forest, do you?” he continued to ogle, “What’s the place of your home called?”   
“Syl’radin,” Vay replied, looking down at his silverware cutlery. Within seconds, a steaming plate of guinea fowl was slid in front of him. The colour drained from his cheeks and he almost gagged.   
“Please, don’t feel as if you have to wait to eat,” Lani offered, his eyes bright with glee. “And Ayrev is advancing well?”   
Vay gave him a scrutinising look, “In what way?”   
“Politically and financially, they have some of the best inventors, crafters and entrepreneurs in Yaima living in Raydon city,” he explained.   
“Not all of them are ethical,” Vay said, glancing around the room again. He hoped that the servants were actually being paid, and weren’t slaves. Keira Salazi had abolished slavery, but Vay knew for a fact that it was still an ongoing problem. Jamie had made them wholly aware of that.  
The Huzulon family began to tuck into their freshly prepared carcasses around him, slowing Lani’s prying questions down. None the less, he continued, “Can you invent things, Sri Nailir?”  
“Does alchemy count?” he asked innocently.   
“I was thinking more along the lines of weapons. Barass is behind and lacking any new progress when it comes to protecting our country,” Lani said blatantly.   
“I can make antidotes to Moriquen poison, if that would help?”  
“I was personally thinking more along the lines of cannons. Have you seen the ones Menos are producing? They are quite exquisite, very heavy though, quite impractical unless mounted to a wall.”   
Vay zoned out from the conversation for a moment, antidotes… immunity to poisons… Perhaps the Moriquen invasion could be stopped with plants.  
“Of course you would work for me, but you would be very wealthy in the process,” the mankari offered.   
“I’m sorry,” Vay’len announced, getting up from the table, “I’m not looking for employment. The people who made this food deserve to eat it more than I do.”  
He turned his back on the wealthy family and bowed towards the rushed servants instead, leaving the dining room with a tight knot in his chest.   
“Where are you going, Nailir?” Lani called after him, “I can offer you more, anything your heart so desires.”   
“I truly doubt that,” the high elf responded sorrowfully.   
“At least say something in Elvish before you go?” he requested.   
“Jukette nin,” Vay uttered under his breath before making a swift departure. He knew if he took up the mankari’s offer he would have been treated like a pet, shown off at dinner parties like some sort of rare white tiger.  
No one should have to be treated like that.

Chapter Sixteen  
Empty Stalls 

On the day of the funeral, Roza became aware of how much more time Nikita was given to say good-bye to her father, compared to the hasty burial of Vay’len’s parents.   
I’m making a bad habit of this, Roza thought, trying to see the absurd side to death, just as she always did. Yet she couldn’t shake the feeling that one day it would be her own parents in the ground, then her sister, her brothers… one day maybe even Vay.  
Michael stood beside her, hooded in cool turquoise, a contrast to her midnight blue.  
Samuel Eldridge led the service, and Nikita spoke her parting words, whilst the temple of Gardoz loomed over them.   
Still, the experience felt surreal to Roza. She looked around the cemetery for Corbin, but she supposed the ancient vampire had already attended countless funerals. She doubted that it ever got easier to watch the people around him grow old and die, whilst he was confined to immortality and darkness.  
Something for me to look forward to, she mused. Roza started to think that she had imagined meeting Corbin Balvine, and almost cutting his arm off. He had appeared and disappeared again in the night.   
Nikita dropped soil onto her father’s coffin and turned to Sam, collapsing into the Gardozian knight’s arms, sobbing.   
Roza and Michael stayed until she was ready, when it was time to finally let go. The end. The two of them took up shovels and began to form Hauvis Dovan’s final resting place.  
“He’s in Gardoz’s hands now,” Roza said with profound belief.   
Michael looked up to meet her gaze, as if he was on the brink of telling her something. But he remained silent.   
“Roza,” a woman approached, wearing funeral colours. “Is that you?”  
She turned away from the filled in grave that she had only just dug the day before, “Leona?” she faced her aunt, who looked so much like her father, but of course more beautiful.   
“Eldridge said that you weren’t well,” she said, throwing the knight behind her a brief but scornful glance. He still had his arms around Nikita, consoling her as best as he could.  
“I’ve seen things,” Roza uttered comically, underneath her hood her eyes were wide with mock horror, “some messed up things.”   
“No doubt,” Leona Kiezar remained reserved. “Last I heard, you had a bit promotion in Ayrev.”   
“Aye, well, apparently there are more Moriquen over there than where they actually originate from,” she replied, leaning on her propped up shovel. “How’s what’s his name doin’? Dugal?”   
Behind her, Sam suppressed a snort.   
“Duncan,” her aunt corrected with a ghost of a smirk.  
“Aye, Uncle Duncan,” she grinned wryly.   
“Fine,” she subconsciously fussed the gold ring on her finger.  
“Half expected I’d have a little cousin by now. Even cold, hard Sathera beat you to that,” Roza joked.   
Leona appeared less than amused. She lent forwards, putting her hands on her niece’s shoulders. “If you ever need help,” she lowered her voice and spoke vitally, “If you ever need away out of this barbaric lifestyle that Theo has raised you into… darling, you know where to find me.”   
“Sure,” Roza said slowly, almost as if she was confused. “Thanks for the offer.”   
Leona straightened up, brushing her silky black hair behind her ears, glancing at the stranger beside Roza, mysterious and hooded.  
Michael stared back at her, an unwilling witness to the affair that she was clearly having with Roza’s godfather. He wondered if Leona Kiezar could sense that he knew.   
“Stay safe, my love,” she bid her niece before departing.  
Roza watched her saunter away through the damp grass. “It’s a bit too late for that,” she murmured under her breath. 

***

“What now?” Roza wondered, finding Sam in the middle of the temple, sitting at the dining table with a bottle of wine for his lunch.   
“Hmm?” he took a while to register her looming over him.   
“Kiezar’s are meant to be the drinkers,” she reminded, folding her thick arms.   
“Oh sorry, I must have forgot,” Sam murmured, offering her the glass of ruby wine.   
She ignored the offer, “That fancy stuff is just wasted of me. Do ya know where Corbin went?”   
“He’s gone?”  
“Yeah,” Roza took up a seat opposite him, the fireplace behind her warming her frigid back. “He was really vague and unhelpful as well. Something much worse has revealed itself,” she made sure to impersonate the half-elf’s cool, steady voice. “No need to tell us what it is, though, heh! We’ll just sit here and wait for the much worse to arrive.”   
“I’m sure he has his reasons for leaving,” Sam said diplomatically. He looked down at his wine, seeming too guilty to take another sip.  
“So, we just sit here and wait here for him to come back?” Roza snapped with impatients.   
“Maybe he will send his fully grown daughter instead…”   
“Are we – are we talkin’ about the same person still?” she puzzled.   
“I can’t believe it has been eight years,” Sam shook his head with disbelief, “I missed out on so much of your life. Please forgive me, Roza.”   
“Sam?” she reached out across the table to him, “Hey, its fine, see? I’m here now. That’s what matters. And my family will be joining us soon, I just came a bit earlier.”  
“Great. So that old bastard can rub it in my face, how happy he is. How much you’ve all grown and moved on, and I’m still here, unmarried and childless,” her godfather broke down.   
“How about we go out tonight and meet some ladies? I’ll do what my father shoulda done a long time ago and be your back up, your second.”  
“You’re gonna cut my head off at the end?” he teased.   
“Not that kind of a second,” she grinned. “Don’t break down on me yet, you’re supposed to be my mentor. Ya know, the one to get the plot moving forwards, guiding me along my heroes’ quest… if only I knew what that was. But don’t you dare die before the second act, though. We need to establish you more as a character everyone cares about before you snuff it.”   
Sam shook his head with disbelief again. “I should have never left you alone with that mad man for eight years,” he said playfully.   
“Ah, there you are,” Michael said, peering into the dining room. “Can we have a chat please, Roza? If you’re not too busy?”  
“That depends on your definition of busy,” she continued to grin, getting up from her chair. She joined her friend in the narrow hallway of the temple.   
He crooked his head, gesturing for her to follow him outside.  
They passed a few Gardozians in training until they reached the half empty stables. Roza recognised Nikita’s and her godfather’s horse, petting them both on the nose as she passed. Michael entered one of the vacant stalls and she gave him a look of scrutiny before joining him.   
“I overheard two people last night,” he said, getting straight to the point. “I think it was your aunt and godfather.”  
“And?” she folded her arms lightly.   
“She’s married,” Michael emphasised.   
“What’s that got to do with anyth – oohh,” Roza figured it out halfway through her sentence. “Don’t be daft. My father would kill Sam for even asking Leona to dance.”  
“They were doing a lot more than dancing last night,” he fretted.   
“That explains why Sam is moping around,” she said. Her stomach churned as the secret settled. A dilemma that could not be solved with fighting or killing.   
Michael nodded slowly, and then spoke as if something had only just crossed his mind. “Corbin told me to find Cecilia Reinwood. Do you know who she is?”  
Roza thought for a moment, “Nope.”  
“Do you know where the Glade Spire is?”  
“That I do know,” she said, “Is this your way of tellin’ me you’re leavin’?”   
“I, well, I want you to come with me,” he said nervously, channelling the young man she used to know.  
“Really?” she asked, with apprehension in her voice.   
“Why wouldn’t I?”   
Roza shrugged, “You ran away from me before.”  
“I was trying to get away from what I had done to you,” Michael explained.  
“You did nothing wrong,” she reassured, “It was a shitty situation, I wish I hadn’t got you involved in.” Roza shut her eyes for a moment, letting the regret and the guilt wash over her.   
When she opened them again, Michael had taken a step forwards. He reached out to caress her cheek with his thumb.   
“You wouldn’t even be in this state to begin with, if it wasn’t for me,” she uttered.   
“We can’t keep blaming ourselves for what has already been done,” he said softly.   
“There’s wisdom in your words,” Roza admired.   
“Do you think Nikita will be okay here?” Michael asked, taking a hold of her hand.  
“Aye,” she nodded, “Sam will take good care of her.”  
He mimicked her nod, “When shall we leave?”   
“Nightfall, I suppose.”   
“What shall we do in the meantime?” Roza asked with a wicked grin.   
“Oh, I can think of a few things,” he said, pretending to be coy as he glanced around the straw covered stall. “Only if you’re ready, though?”   
“Well, the world could end at any moment,” she chuckled, reaching around him to pull his body closer to hers. His chest was strong and firm against her own.   
“Charming,” he retorted with amusement. 

Chapter Seventeen   
The Greatest 

The Empress sat at the head of the long mahogany table, glancing around at the improvements that had been made to the meeting room. It had once been lavishly decorated with thick curtains, lamps and an unnecessary amount of seats. The biggest change was that the horseshoe shaped collection of tables had also been removed, and donated to newly built homes in Aze.   
Alania felt less confined and trapped at the head of the table as her dignitaries began to file in to the meeting room and take up their seats. The hour that followed was much the same; week after week, always the same issues with an army almost depleted and not enough funds to replace it.   
“…The worst case scenario would be for you to step up on the frontline, Empress,” Lord Bayle spoke sincerely.   
“I would gladly do that to save my people,” she said without hesitation.   
Against the shadowy wall behind the empress, her consort hissed under his breath, “It won’t come to that.”   
“I thought Menos would have done more by now. But no, they have left this dark elf scourge for us to deal with,” Countess Liano protested. “I swear that our ambassador over there does nothing but indulge himself, whilst our country is defenceless.”   
“What do you propose, Countess? To send someone over to Menos to investigate?” Alania asked lightly.   
“Yes. I will personally see to it myself that this ambassador is checked up on,” she said with the bow of her head.   
“Splendid,” Alania smiled with gratitude. “If there is nothing else to discuss, there is little point in me keeping you all here.”   
After a moment of wood scraping on wood as the nobles left their chairs, and soon they were all gone from the meeting room. Countess Liano was the last to depart, ambitious as always. Before the door could shut behind her, someone else slid into the room, clad in burgundy.   
Alania was about to get up from her seat, but her knees failed her at the sight of her old friend. “Corbin?” she gaped, bringing her hand up to her mouth in disbelief.   
He lowered his thick hood, his blond hair sticking up messily. “Your Highness,” he bowed elegantly.  
Her eyes glowed gold, the ancient fire within her stirring as she arose from the great table, “Your Highness? You disappear for years and then just saunter back in as if nothing has changed?”  
Aryn stepped out from the shadows at last. “Why did you come back? You were free of all responsibilities to the empire,” he puzzled.  
Alania was on her feet, approaching Corbin with her eyes wide, staring at him as if he was a ghost.   
“I can’t tell if you want to hit me or hug me,” he said with half a smile, not knowing what words to use to answer their questions. But, I can show them…  
“Both,” the empress said breathlessly. “Is Diana not with you?”   
Corbin shook his head slowly, the smile on his face slipping away. “Yaima isn’t ready for her power. Besides, she’s found a way to commune with her family in the afterlife. I don’t think I’ll be seeing her for a while…”  
“I thought that you were her family now,” Alania uttered with indignation.  
He shrugged, wanting to drop the subject. He glanced between the two of them, “You’re married now?”  
“We have been for five years,” the empress replied sweetly.   
Corbin leant in, half covering his mouth as he pretended to whisper, “Isn’t he a bit old for you?” he pulled away and winked at the ancient llichivar.   
Aryn folded his narrow arms across his chest, appearing less than amused.   
“You’re one to talk,” Alania retorted mischievously. “I’m sure you didn’t come here to just antagonise the greatest assassin in Yaima?”  
“Ouch, you wound me,” Corbin said with a theatrical flinch. “I guess I’ll always be the second greatest?”   
“Well, you’re not using my newly decorated meeting room to find out,” she bantered, holding her head high as she headed for the door.   
“I found a friend,” he informed at last, “She’s waiting in the Great Hall to meet you.”   
Alania thinned her vibrant eyes as she passed the vampire, “Who?”  
Corbin raised an eyebrow, “Go see for yourself.”   
Aryn followed behind his wife, as silent as a shadow on his deadly talon tipped feet. He looked up at Corbin as he neared, tilting his head a fraction. “Arkael was right about you. You really are a fool,” he hissed coldly.   
He smirked slightly as the insult bounced off his invisible armour. 

***

Returning to the Great Hall after so long brought back more memories than Corbin desired. Nothing had changed. For centuries, the towering and dark brick walls had confined Emperors and Empresses, protecting them and their subjects from the horrors that had been left behind by the corruptions of magic. The Eternal Fire brought life to the dark country. It was exactly as Corbin remembered it, glowing in the centre of the Hall, a rectangular pillar of flame.  
Staring into the fire – that signified everlasting hope and so much more – stood his new ally. Her orange and golden robes glowed in the firelight, making her appear to blaze just as brilliantly. She turned to the three of them, her ageless green eyes turning yellow in the light.   
“Your Highness,” she knelt to the hard floor, her thick red hair cascading around her. “It is an honour to meet you. I am Evelina Skadi – ”  
“Phoenix High Priestess,” Aryn stopped dead in his tracks, recognising the woman in front of them.   
Evelina raised her head. She was pale skinned and aging beautifully. Her features were so alike to Alania’s that they could pass as aunt and niece. “Aryn’nair Devarr, of the White Dragon Assassins?” she questioned in disbelief.   
Corbin took up a seat on the steps that led up towards the royal throne, freeing his metal flask from within his jacket pocket.   
Aryn’s arms fell low at his sides, his claw tipped fingers flexing rapidly. Although the high priestess appeared human, she was as purely llichivarian as he was.  
“This must be some sort of a mistake,” Evelina announced with disbelief, scrabbling to her feet, her eyes growing wide. “This male, this filth,” she pointed a slender finger at the consort, “Is a traitor!”  
“Balvine,” Aryn began to seethe, not looking around at the vampire behind him as he scorned him, “Where did you find her?”   
“She washed up on the Menosian shores three days ago,” Corbin replied casually, taking a drink from his flask. “I tried to tell her that things are different. She still seems to think that it is the year nine-hundred, Before Star Fall.”  
“I watched him do it,” Evelina shook with fear, rage, guilt, she couldn’t settle for just one emotion. “He came to the temple, the Temple of Balance, before I knew what was happening, half of my priests and priestesses had been slaughtered. When he was done with us, he stole the Scale of Maiya and went to the palace to finish off your father. Your aunt was betrayed and murdered as well that night.”  
Corbin sighed loudly in the background, “I didn’t think this through very far.”  
“My father?” Alania puzzled.   
“Emperor Cassin,” Evelina shuddered, tears falling from her eyes.   
“Who do you think I am?”  
“Empress Anna-Quinn, of course.”   
Alania blinked rapidly for a moment, turning to her husband. He appeared paler than usual, barely breathing. “It’s been over five hundred years since Emperor Cassin Avery ruled. I am his descendant, Alania Avery,” she clarified. “What ever stories you have heard about Aryn –”  
“I told you, I was there! It was no story,” her voice raised a fraction, before she remembered to compose herself in front of her ruler. “How can it be that I don’t remember the last five centuries?”   
“Same way Diana was locked away, frozen in time, I guess,” Corbin shrugged from the steps, before massaging his wounded shoulder. “I think I get it now. The last thing Evelina remembers is the Carvar Isles being destroyed.”   
“D-destroyed?” the high priestess panicked.  
“Sunk by Krotan and Zula,” Alania nodded, her lips thinning in sympathy.   
“By the twin wizards? But they were supposed to be our allies… why would they – why?” she couldn’t fathom it.   
“They were the ones that forced Aryn to steal the dragon relic,” Alania explained, “They were the ones that controlled him and made him into a weapon.”   
Aryn took a few steps back, joining Corbin on the stone steps. His beautiful, yet unusual face disappeared behind his hands as his own memories consumed him. It didn’t matter what the truth was and what had been out of his control, he would always be tainted by taking away innocent lives. The fact that Alania was defending him only made him love her more, and she would always be the purest soul he would ever know.   
“How can this be true?” Evelina murmured desperately.   
“Believe me,” Corbin piped up, “Krotan and Zula were a pain that just wouldn’t go away. They grew so powerful and ambitious that they thought themselves gods. Arkael and I only just banished them because we had the help of an actual goddess – your beloved Maiya.”   
“So… so Aryn never wanted the Scale of Maiya for himself?” she began to use logic.   
“Does he look like a heavenly being to you?” Corbin smirked, crooking his head towards the llichivar.   
“Depends who you’re asking,” Alania said quickly, glancing behind her at the two males.   
Aryn lowered his hands, looking up at his wife with his large aqua eyes. There were no words great enough to express his appreciation and devotion for her.  
“And you know where the Tear is now?” Evelina wondered.   
“Mmhmm,” the empresses nodded, smiling with reassurance, “Although, we call it the Moonstone now. My best friend Sheri is the keeper of the relic.”   
“Then we must restore balance immediately,” Evelina proposed. She slipped her hand into the pocket of her iridescent robes and produced a long stone, shaped almost like a feather. It shimmered like a rainbow in her palm. “I have the Feather of Muraz.”  
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Corbin chuckled, “That’s the relic that Krotan and Zula spent their whole, cruel lives looking for.”   
“And you said that Evelina just washed up on the shore, and you so happened to find her first?” Alania asked sceptically.   
He shrugged again, “I guess I’m just a lucky son of a bitch, after all.” 

Chapter Eighteen   
Prestige 

Roza and Michael emerged from the stables a few hours after nightfall. She smirked as she picked straw out of his messy, brown hair.  
“At least not needing to sleep has a few perks,” he chortled, threading his fingers through hers to hold onto her free hand.   
For a moment, Roza became highly aware of his touch. No one had held her hand so affectionately, not since she had lost her fiancé. No one had made love to her so eagerly since then, either. She wasn’t sure if she should cry, or recoil in fear.   
Roza managed to keep the smirk across her face, whilst her heart shattered in her chest. I’m still not ready, she scolded herself. She wanted to change. She wanted to stop using the people around her, but she had slipped so easily back into old habits.   
Roza stared ahead into the seemingly endless forest, only half conscious of her surroundings.   
“Are you ready to go?” Michael asked, tugging on her hand lightly.   
“Aye,” she replied slowly, “I should leave these galdarkas here, before we go.” Roza broke away from his tender touch, to walk around the Gardozian temple. The guilt and regret that knotted in her chest began to ease away, slightly.   
I can’t return the same affection, she couldn’t keep pretending that nothing was wrong, no one else can fix the way that I am. Only I can.  
The same way that she didn’t want to drag Vay down with her, she didn’t want to hurt Michael either.   
“Help!” a woman cried, rushing towards the temple. She began to stumble on the gravel pathway that led towards Roza.  
Roza could scent blood before she spotted the frantic woman. “Help, the town is being attacked!” she shrieked.   
The Gardozian squire on guard was quick to notice the urgency and hurried inside the ancient temple to alert everyone inside.   
In a matter of seconds, Sir Samuel was leaping off the porch, a squire close at his heels, attaching pieces of turquoise armour to the knight. “Is it Moriquen?” he asked the distressed and clearly wounded woman.   
“I can’t be sure,” she panted, “No – can’t possibly – no – it was shredding them apart.”   
Roza hooked her arm around the woman before she collapsed, noticing now that she was closer to a child than an adult, but tall for her age. A terrified and exhausted girl, her face splattered with someone else’s blood.   
“Werewolves?” the squire behind Sam speculated.   
“It’s a possibility,” the Gardozian knight said stoically.  
“I’ll get my armour,” the squire suggested.   
Roza glanced at him as he walked backwards. The squire was hardly any larger than her brother Logan and she could already imagine the outcome if he went up against those beasts.   
“No. You grab a horse and ride to the capital. Find Rain and tell her to send her soldiers to Largo,” Sam ordered logically.   
“I’ll go with you,” Roza volunteered.   
“I never doubted you for a second,” he said with a small reassuring smile.   
“I’ll take her,” Michael offered, rushing forwards to support the scared girl.   
“Are you sure?”   
“You still don’t trust me?” his eyes were wide in the darkness.   
Roza heard the sound of horses’ hooves thundering across the ground. She turned to one of the squires at the foot of the temple and placed the girl in his care.   
“I have to go,” she said urgently, following her god-father into battle.   
“I can help,” Michael argued, holding onto the small fraction of his pride.   
“I don’t want you to get hurt,” she shouted the words out behind her without looking back. 

***

Theo’s daughter quickly caught up and ran alongside him towards the small town that neighboured the Gardozian Temple. Sam hadn’t faced werewolves in over fifteen years, and he had almost always had Theo to watch his back in the old days.  
Rozaline Kiezar would have to be the next best thing. Only nineteen, but she was almost as hulking as her father. What she lacked in size, Sam was sure that she would make up for in speed. Gardozian techniques stemmed from precision and speed, rather than brute strength, creating the perfect warriors, regardless of their gender. However, galdarkas were not exactly lightweight weapons.  
Sam skidded to a halt, examining an almost unrecognisable corpse on the threshold of the town.   
Roza stopped abruptly behind him, looking up, down, left and right. He could swear that she was sniffing the night air.   
He looked down at the river of blood that was flowing through the cobblestone streets, seeping over his metallic boots. Sam blinked a few times, no stranger to seeing such gore on the battlefield, but never before in a town full of innocent citizens. “We were too late,” he uttered with disbelief.   
Roza began to follow the trail of blood. There was a reason why she couldn’t scent or hear the perfect assassin on the far side of the town. Aqua coloured smoke was the only trace that Aryn left behind as he tore apart the towns’ people.   
Sam rushed forwards without a second thought. Knowing that he was outmatched, but justice and the Gardozian code overruled any fear of death.   
Roza was more hesitant, but only because she couldn’t fathom why the empress’ consort would be massacring a whole town.   
Sam unleashed his mighty galdarka, taking a swipe at where the llichivar should have been pivoting, but his cold steel only met with the wispy smoke that the assassin left behind.   
Roza braced herself for the incoming blow, not knowing where Aryn would reappear to slice her god-father open.   
The attack never came. Aryn revealed himself again, perching on the edge of the towns’ water well, akin to an owl readying to swoop.  
The group of what they had first thought were citizens, began to frantically swarm around Sam with the intention to rip his throat out with their teeth.   
Aryn tilted his head to survey Roza with mild curiosity. He glanced at the mass of bloodsuckers and then back at the blond warrior, with similarly no pulse of fresh blood in her veins. The Buckeye galdarkas did not go unnoticed by the llichivar either.  
Sam was reluctant to strike, but only for a moment, as one of the vampires made a strike for him. His galdarka left its engraved case once again, slicing apart a line of the enemies. They split apart like sandbags, their icy blood adding to the river that Aryn had already started.  
Immediately another wave of the mindless creatures stepped up to face the Gardozian knight. Aryn dashed in to aid him, with Roza close behind.  
She skidded forwards, drawing her main galdarka upon one of the larger vampires, thrusting the steel right through him. Roza wasn’t sure if she would ever get used to the sharpness of the antique blade, or the way that it caught the moonlight, making it glow just as bright. She sliced through her target, turning around and curving the blade in time to cut through another vampire, from groin to neck.   
The attackers crumbled, cut into ribbons by the Gardozian weapons, the bodies began to pile up around the trio of Largo’s defenders.   
“I’m going to find the source,” Aryn announced, moving too quickly for the eye to see, his voice became a whisper on the wind.   
Roza briefly witnessed her god-father deftly decapitating five of the vampires in a row, their blood plastering his face and armour. She mimicked his movements, ducking and slicing and turning. Sam’s style was slightly more defensive than what her father had taught her. Kiezar’s were known for being risk takers, but that still didn’t explain why her father had been the best swordsman of his time.  
Her body didn’t tire. Roza remained focused and disciplined as she sliced apart the very creatures that she vowed never to become. Dawn would eventually come, and the night hunters would all return to the shadows.   
Sam dropped five more enemies, and at last the small army seemed to back off, sooner than expected. Relieved, the knight wiped his blade on the cloth at his belt and returned it to the ornate sheath. “I think Aryn – ” he began to speak, but was cut off by a loud crack.   
Sam span around, watching in horror as the ground beneath his god-daughters’ feet split apart. The cobblestone shattered, opening like a wide mouth to eat her up.  
Roza tried to lunge forwards, but she was already slipping down, scrabbling across the sinkhole.   
“Rozaline!” he ran to her, attempting to grab her hand.   
“No,” she barked, as the ground began to swallow her, “Leave me.”  
He was already too close, almost falling over the uneven terrain. Sam dug his heels into the slope of soil, still trying to reach out for Roza.   
Without even a scream, she accepted her fate, falling down into the vertical tunnel of darkness.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this far, I appreciate it so much. I have been working on this for months now, whilst my actual job has been getting in the way a bit. Feel free to leave me a comment, especially if it concerns an error, plot-hole or a sensitivity issue. I get a lot of my inspiration from Berserk, Sarah J Maas books and games like Dragon Age, Skyrim and Guild Wars. I try to do right by my characters, keeping them realistic enough to be believable, whilst testing their strength at the same time.   
> Part two, and the final part of this book should be uploaded as well (I'd hate to leave you on such a cliff-hanger ;) ) I'll warn you now, it is going to take a dark turn. For as long as I can remember, I have been battling with my own anxiety and depression - and more recently PTSD. Writing has been my biggest distraction. I can plot and imagine what my characters are going to do next and fantasise that one day my books will be good enough to become popular. I'll feel like I've made a difference in the world, if I can entertain readers and at least for a short while, they can share the same escapism as I do with my books.   
> Again, thanks for taking the time :)


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